


Down by the Water

by Cas_Wings



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Western, Amputation, Anal Sex, Blood and Injury, Castiel/Past OFC, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Smut, Falling In Love, Frottage, Graphic Depictions of Illness, Graphic Description, Homophobia, Homophobic Language, Hurt Castiel, Hurt Dean, Hurt Dean Winchester, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Injury Recovery, Love Confessions, M/M, Major Character Injury, Making Love, Oral Sex, Period-Typical Homophobia, Porn With Plot, Slow Build, Slow Build Castiel/Dean Winchester, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, TW: Blood, Western, blood cw, blood tw, romantic smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-27
Updated: 2014-06-08
Packaged: 2017-12-27 18:09:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 32
Words: 88,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/982022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cas_Wings/pseuds/Cas_Wings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU, set in 1853 — When Castiel loses everything dear to him due to a botched river crossing, including his supplies, livestock, covered wagon, and even his wife, he has no where to turn, no way to survive stranded in the middle of his journey. That is, until he meets Dean Winchester, who offers him a life saving deal: in exchange for help on his farm, Dean offers to provide much needed room and board. But how will this decision affect Castiel as he moves through his grief, and discovers feelings he never would have expected? Fighting with injury, pain, grief, and even the threat of death, Dean and Castiel find themselves in the one place they would have never expected: down by the water, struggling to accept their unforeseen love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Loss

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Throughout this story, there will be homophobic language and content, as well as misogynistic themes. This in no way reflects my views as an author, but is simply a product of the times this story is set in. 
> 
> Currently finished updating with edits done by tumblr user ohbbey as of Friday, July 18th, 2014. Big thank you to her for all of her hard work, go check out her blog!
> 
> Listen to the playlist for this fic: http://8tracks.com/caswingswriting/down-by-the-water
> 
> See the cover for this fic, made by James, at http://houseofstark.co.vu/:  
> http://media.tumblr.com/1db3bf00c90aeb19e9943a2f34103a38/tumblr_inline_n1ry1cRcid1riji8l.jpg
> 
> Watch the trailer for this fic:  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HoKAZHTfsKk&list=UUZRSYBNwi4DajT70Zhuoegg
> 
> As always, thank you for reading, I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it. :)

 

Castiel pulled the blue bandanna up around his nose and mouth, protecting himself from the dry, choking dust from the wagons in front of him. Clicking his tongue, he snapped the reigns lightly, urging on the obviously tired and thirsty oxen before turning to his wife, who was seated next to him; it was far too hot to remain in the wagon, and the breeze outside was cooling when the dust settled. She looked worn out, sore from rattling around on a hard wooden bench for weeks, but her eyes remained bright with curiosity and hope.

"Do you need any water?" Castiel called over the creaking of the wagons in front of and behind them.

Kate shook her head, smiling behind the handkerchief she used to protect her mouth and nose, the expression showing in her eyes. "I'll be fine for a bit, just hopin' we'll stop soon."

Castiel nodded and looked ahead through the thin cloud of dust, spotting a glimmer on the horizon. "I think we're in luck, we've reached a river. Should be stoppin' soon for a rest." He shielded his eyes against the sun, looking at the sky, seeing it was just barely noon. "It's too early to make camp, but we can have some dinner." Kate nodded, looking to the river ahead as she felt her stomach growl. "Sounds like a plan."

They reached the river in just under fifteen minutes, parking their small train of six wagons in a semi-circle facing the river. Castiel removed his bandana and jumped off the tall wagon to help Kate down, earning him a grateful smile.

"Can I help ya with anything?" He asked, taking off his hat to fan himself in the shade of their wagon. Kate chuckled lightly, shaking her head as she began the meal preparations. "I've got it, you go and rest."

Castiel smiled gently, watching her for a couple seconds as she pulled out a few biscuits and some jerky. She was graceful in even the simplest of tasks, beautiful even when she was covered in dust and grime, hair falling loosely from where she had pinned it up. How could he have gotten so lucky? With this thought he smiled, love sick for his wife of three months as he went to tend to the livestock.

The oxen drank thirstily, water mixing with frothy saliva as it dripped from their muzzles when they lifted their heads. Giving them each a generous pat, Castiel returned to the wagon to find Kate had made makeshift sandwiches for them. "Thank ya," he said, drawling ever so slightly on the words as he settled onto the dry prairie grass next to Kate, back leaning against one of the wagon wheels. They ate in silence, enjoying the light, cool breeze off the river as children ran to stretch their legs from being seated for so long.

Kate smiled, violet eyes bright as she looked to him, causing love and adoration to well in Castiel's chest. Reaching over, the blue-eyed man grabbed her small hand in his, giving it a squeeze. "I love you," he murmured softly, thumb running over the slightly dry back of her hand, earning him another beautiful smile. "I love you, too." Reaching over to cup her heat flushed cheek, Castiel felt the wheel shift slightly at his back and turned a second later with a concerned glance, finding one of the spokes beginning to crack.

"What is it?" Kate asked, concern furrowing her slightly damp brow at the expression on his face. Castiel frowned, sitting up to have a closer look at the problem. "The wood's rotting away," he replied, brow creasing. This wagon didn't have many problems but an extra wheel cost money and supplies they couldn't spare. Standing, he wiped at his mouth with the bandana that hung loosely from his neck. "I'm gonna go ask around camp, see if anyone has an extra they can spare."

Kate nodded, a look of empathy in her eye for the man who was working so hard to provide for them. After a few minutes of cleaning she sat wearily on the back of the wagon, shade cascading over her. It felt nice to simply sit and rest, to know that the life she had chosen was a good one, with a good man. Looking up from her thoughts, she stood as Castiel approached, noting he looked less stressed than before.

"The foreman says there's a town just beyond this river where we can get a wheel. It won't be cheap, but everyone says they're willing to pitch in a little money." Kate felt a smile break on her face, relief rushing through her. "Now that was nice of everyone. I'll have to make them all a good breakfast tomorrow."

Castiel nodded, taking her small hand once more. "How did I get so lucky with someone like you?" Kate shrugged, warmth flooding her chest at his soft blue eyes. "You were just yourself." Castiel gave her a smile and chuckled lightly at how caught up in love he was with her, motioning her to look to the river.

"We've gotta cross it today, shouldn't take more than an hour for all of us. Foreman's gonna check our wheel first, to make sure we're safe to go." At this, Kate looked slightly worried, eyes flicking over to the churning water. "Couldn't we wait till the water's a little calmer?"

Castiel opened his mouth, but was cut off by the foreman who had arrived to inspect the wheel. "There's nothing to worry about, ma'am, I've crossed this river many times. This is actually calm for this one. Just gotta have a strong team of livestock, and a good wagon, which I'm sure you have both of."

Castiel's chest swelled ever so slightly with the compliment, as he had worked night and day to gather the funds for the best and safest possible necessities for the trip. "Thank you, sir, I appreciate that."

The foreman nodded, walking over to the wheel Castiel had motioned to earlier. Inspecting the crack, he prodded at the imperfection lightly with the toe of his boot. "Well, Mr. Novak, you should be fine, it's not too big of a crack, just make sure you get it fixed in the next town. Castiel nodded, looking slightly apprehensive, but willing to trust the judgment of the man who had already made this trip three times. "Thank you."

The foreman tipped his hat, whistling loudly to gather everyone's attention as he made his way back to his own wagon. "Alright, listen up folks! We're gonna cross this river one at a time in an orderly like fashion, just like the last river. Now, as we all know, it could get a little hairy out there, so just keep calm and moving if you get a little off course. Keep your eyes set on the bank ahead, and make sure all your possessions are tied down properly. I'll go first, you all follow on my count." The camp all nodded in agreement, lining up their wagons to cross. Kate sat with Castiel up on the outside of their wagon, as it was the safest way to cross a river.

The first wagon made it across with a slight hitch, losing only a pot to the fierce river. It went on like this for two more of the wagons, until it was the Novak's turn. Castiel smiled, squeezing Kate's hand once before he drove the team into the water, the cracked wheel a worry he pushed to the back of his mind as the foreman said it would be okay for this crossing. However, when they were only halfway across the river, Castiel felt the wagon shift uneasily, a deathly crack thundering from under the water. Instantly his stomach sank, knowing it was the wheel. With only half of the river keeping them from the bank, he drove the oxen harder, handing the reigns to a wide eyed and frightened Kate.

"I'm going to go down there and see if I can't support it for the rest of the way!" He shouted over the roar of the water. Kate, not having a chance to respond before Castiel jumped down into the frigid, powerful water, could only helplessly hold the reigns and wait out the crossing.

Keeping a strong hold on the wagon against the churning force of the liquid, Castiel ducked his head under water, visibility difficult with the churning foam of the rapids. When a break appeared to show the wheel, his stomach dropped further at the sight: the wheel was completely cracked, and was moving quickly towards the damaged spot.

As fast as he could through the water, although his movements were dulled by the density, he grabbed the spoke and attempted to support it, foot coming out in a panic to set it. His efforts, however, wasted when the wheel turned once more and collapsed, causing the entire wagon to dip forward into the water. Castiel's eyes went wide in the seeming slow motion of the mishap, his grip being ripped from the wagon as it fell to it's side.

"Kate!" He cried out in panic when he resurfaced, his wife's name the only word he was able to get out before being sucked under by the current the wagon created. He struggled desperately against the water, his inner ears being crushed with the weight, limbs going every direction, controlled by the relentless and merciless force of nature. Lungs burning from lack of oxygen, Castiel watched the wagon and livestock be swept away, watched all of his belongings float and rush around him as his vision faded to black. No sound, no sight, the only sensation he felt before unconsciousness took hold was a hand grabbing frantically at his. Somehow, although extremely disoriented under the water, he could recognize the slender fingers, the gentle curve of the palm: Kate.

It was the last time he felt her hand around his.  
  


* * *

  
Castiel woke with a jolt on the other side of the river, sand and grass under his clutched fingers. Confused and lightheaded, he turned over on the bank and promptly threw up water, coughing violently as he noticed the crowd of worried looking individuals around him.

"Mr. Novak, just try and breathe, we'll get you fixed up." The foreman reassured, stepping forward with a tone of urgency to his words. Looking up from his position on the bank, Castiel picked up a shaky hand to wipe his dripping bangs from his stinging eyes, wincing when his hand found a large welt above his eyebrow. He opened his mouth to speak, but only coughed harder, sitting up to get a handle on his breath. Almost instantly, his eyes raked over the river, watching as a wheel floated by, one with an all too familiar crack.

And just like that, it all came back, Castiel's face going pale with panic and fear as he forced himself to stand. The sudden movement causing him to become light-headed, Castiel turned and threw up what felt like gallons of water, black spots dancing in his vision. Wiping at his mouth a moment later, uncaring of his own physical state, he turned his panicked gaze to the foreman, only one question on his mind.

"Where's Kate?" The foreman's eyes went sullen, flicking up and down the rapid river once. "They haven't found her yet..." He informed, eyes trained on Castiel in detached sympathy. Castiel's eyes followed the foreman's line of sight down the river, disbelief welling in him. "No," he said, unaware that the broken syllable had even slipped from his lips. "No, she has to be up river somewhere, must've swam up on the bank, she's strong, probably safe right now just waiting for us to come find her." The words came out in a jumbled mess, Castiel's disoriented steps already stumbling through the sand, heading frantically down river.

The foreman stepped forward to put a steadying hand on Castiel's arm, whose head snapped up with panic filled features. "Mr. Novak, we already have teams of men down there searchin'. You need to sit down and rest, have someone take a proper look at you." Castiel shook his head firmly at the words, tugging his arm away as worry induced tears stung the back of his eyes. "No. I don't care about me right now, I care about my wife," he countered firmly, voice almost breaking when he tugged away to continue heading down the bank, stubborn in his panic driven state.

"Mr. Novak, I won't let you go down ther-" The foreman started, words cut off when his sight was filled by a man in the distance, carrying the slumped and unmoving figure of a woman.

Castiel turned back to the foreman to refuse a final time, confused by the sudden halt in his words. At the expression on the older man's face, Castiel's heart sank into the deep depths of his stomach, his own gaze turning slowly to be met by the horrifying sight. Instantly, his knees wavered beneath him, breath caught in an unreleased sob, shock overtaking his every emotion and physical feeling.

"Kate..." He whispered reverently, shock keeping his words and form from breaking as he broke into a run, each step bringing him closer to the sight of his worst nightmare, the sight of his horrific reality. He reached the man who was carrying her quickly, shocked tears blinding him at Kate's now pale face, blue lips, and sodden hair, which stuck to her forehead. "No!" He choked out, heaving her body from the other man's arms before collapsing to his knees, his wife's head falling back to expose her neck.

"No, please no," he pleaded brokenly, hand fluttering in disbelief to her chest, which was still with lack of breath. Faced with a tragedy he didn't want to believe, never wanted to believe, Castiel's chest tightened with grief, sobs wracking his body as he cradled Kate's lifeless head against his chest.

It had been a day. They had reached the outskirts of the town towards which they were headed, Castiel riding with the foreman in his wagon. He had slept outside that night, on the ground, not wanting to invade anyone's space or comfort as he cried himself to sleep. It didn't seem real, all of it, especially the next day, the day they had designated for her burial. He woke with a jolt from his water filled nightmare, body feeling worn by the simple act of crying the night before. Getting up now even posed a difficulty through the grief, his every joint and muscle protesting at the movement off the hard ground.

"We've got a few more men from town," the foreman started as Castiel rolled up his blanket, "to help us with the digging." The words were like a punch to the gut, and no matter how prepared he had been for them, they remained Castiel's reminder this wasn't a horrible dream. Nodding, he looked over to a nearby tree where a group of about five men were starting to dig, their work lessened by the spring rain softened soil.

"So, I know this isn't what you wanna hear right now, but we're movin' on tomorrow..." The foreman said carefully, sentence trailing off as blue, pained eyes met his. Castiel knew he had lost everything. All that he had worked two years for, his livestock, his supplies, his wagon, all of it was lost to the river and there was no way he could possibly keep going with them. Looking to the town in the distance, he quickly realised he would have to find some sort of job, live on the streets until he could find a place to live; until he could get another wagon and turn back home. "I'll be stayin' here," he informed, the foreman nodding in understanding. There was no way he could go on.

"I'll just come and get ya when they're done." The older man said, giving Castiel a cordial nod as he donned his hat once more, going to supervise the men. Castiel sat heavily on the back of the foreman's wagon, a headache beginning to form at the back of his eyes. How could this have happened? Anger rose in him at the thought, his memory instantly picking up on the foreman telling him it would be okay, as he had done this so many times before. Apparently not enough, for it had cost him his wife. Rage turning to bitter bile in the back of his throat, Castiel calmed his thoughts and put his head in his hands, rubbing the fatigue from his eyes, wishing he could silence the constant sound of scraping shovels in the distance.

It only took twenty minutes until the foreman came over to lead him to the site, only twenty minutes to dig his wife's final resting place. After walking over, Castiel was instantly met by a crude rectangle pine box in which Kate had already been sealed away. Holding back his tears in front of the other men, Castiel gave a nod, signaling for the men to lower her body into the deep ground.

"Would you like to say anything?" The foreman asked after a few minutes of deafening and uncomfortable silence, to which Castiel responded with a quick shake of his head. What there was to say, he wouldn't say in front of these strangers, especially in front of the man who gave him the okay for the river crossing.

As the loose, dark earth was heaped upon the light wood, the crowd of people began to thin, leaving Castiel with sympathetic glances and murmurs of apologies they didn't mean. Nodding to each of them, he was soon left to watch the dirt being piled upon the coffin, piled upon his wife. At the thought, tears sprung in his eyes, causing him to walk away from the working men, returning to his previous spot on the foreman's sedentary wagon.

He cried alone for a long while, silent sobs wracking his shoulders as he held a hand over his eyes to conceal the weak act- men weren't supposed to cry. Gathering his breath, he stared at the cracked ground and tried to get a hold of himself when a pair of boots interrupted his vision of the dirt before him. Wiping his eyes quickly, Castiel looked up at the face of an unknown man, revealing green eyes, short, light brown hair, and full lips. It took him a moment, but he soon realized he was one of the men who had dug the grave.

The man looked sympathetic towards him, but in a genuine way not shown by the rest of the crowd at the makeshift funeral. He didn't seem to be piteous, but instead seemed to be truly sorry for what had happened. Taking off his hat, the stranger held out his hand to Castiel. "Howdy. I'm Dean Winchester," he greeted, voice softer around the edges than most, a slight, deep drawl to his words. Castiel took his hand and shook it firmly, masking his face of emotion. "Castiel Novak."

Dean nodded in acknowledgment of his name, removing his hand from the other's grip politely. "I know I may be out of place here," he said, eyes flicking down to his boots for half a second in hesitation, "but I asked the foreman if you was goin' on with the group, and seeing as you aren't," he cleared his throat, trying to gauge Castiel's facial expressions, which remained blank, "I was wonderin' if you needed a job. I have a farm a couple miles outside of town and I need help. I can't afford to pay anyone, though, and seein' your circumstances, I wanted to offer you a deal."

At his words, Castiel felt himself become defensive and prideful, but forced himself to consider the opportunity; he didn't even know if there were other available jobs in town. "What's the deal?"

"Well, there are no rooms or solid jobs in town, and the way I figure it, we're both in need right now. So, what I'm offerin' is if I give you livin' space in my house, you help me with the work on my farm. I don't have a wife, so I would need some help inside as well with the cookin' and cleanin'," he went on, fingers playing idly with the hat in his hands, hoping it didn't sound as if he was offering up charity.

Castiel was quiet for a long while, simply considering the offer. He had nowhere to go, no job to fill, and worse still- he had lost everything. He was a broken man with nothing left. Sucking up his pride, he held out his hand to the stranger to shake. "Deal."

Dean took the other man's hand once more, face bordering on a relieved grin before he remembered the circumstances of the deal. "Good. We can go now, if ya like. I brought my wagon today, it shouldn't take us but an hour to get back."

Castiel nodded, pushing down the emotion that welled in his chest, the slight panic at everything new that was piling up on top of him. After a moment, he stood on rubbery legs, made his way to the wagon, and climbed up next to the stranger to head for the unknown place.


	2. Day One

The ride to Dean's land didn't take long. It was a fairly smooth wagon, only hitching once or twice on the rough ground as Castiel stared emptily out onto the passing prairie. Dean had opened his mouth to start a conversation a few times but stopped himself when he caught sight of the other man's face. Empty grief colored the slight lines on his face, giving him the appearance of sorrow beyond his age. So, Dean simply faced the road and clicked his tongue at the horses, his encouragement of the animal's pace the only sound breaking the silence that enveloped the two.

"This is it." Dean announced, clearing his throat of all the silence it had held before as they pulled up to his property. At Dean's sudden words, Castiel raised his blue eyes from the grass-covered ground to look ahead. His gaze instantly swept across the land, taking everything from the large willow trees surrounding the simple wooden house to the small, sloped hill in the back leading down to unseen land.

"It's beautiful," he said softly, voice low and scratchy from the crying and silence, not even aware the quiet words slipped past his lips. Dean smiled slightly, eyes flicking quickly over his familiar property. "Yeah, it works," he replied with a shrug, internally appreciating the comment on the land he had worked so hard to build up. "Let's get inside then."

Castiel nodded, slightly embarrassed by his own mouth, which never seemed to filter his innermost thoughts. Still stiff and sore from the journey, he stood and jumped from the wagon, ignoring his body's protest at the action. Following Dean, he focused on the slight scuff of their boots against the ground, focused on anything to keep him from thinking of Kate. This grief was his to bear, and he would be damned if he looked weak in front of anybody else. He had been humiliated enough.

Focusing back into reality from his stubborn thoughts as they entered the house, Castiel's sight was filled by a well-lit, spacious front room. A stove sat in one corner with a small table, a few dishes and cooking utensils scattering the counters, which tapered off to lead to a small sitting area in the middle of the room.

"My room is off to the side here," Dean started, stepping forward with a gesture at a doorway that lay to the side of them, "and your room is right next to it. Used to be the dining room but I figured since I would be hirin' people, they would need somewhere to live," he finished, stepping aside to let Castiel see his room, which held a simple bed, desk, and dresser. "Thank ya." Castiel drew softly, the bed suddenly looking tempting.

Almost as if he could pick up on Castiel's thoughts, Dean motioned to the front door. "Well, I've gotta go unhitch the horses and bring in the cow, won't take me but half an hour. You can go ahead and get some rest, and when I get back we can go through your job duties."

Castiel hesitated for a moment, not wanting to seem useless and lazy, but fatigue soon won over his choice. "Thank ya," he said again with a hollow smile, feet leading him into the room before Dean even left the house. He knew his silence and downcast gaze seemed weak, made him seem like a woman, but he just couldn't help it. He had lost everything. How could anyone expect him to be strong after that? Sighing out into the quiet room, he removed his boots and settled over the comforter, knowing the afternoon would soon rise in temperature. Instantly, he sunk back into the pillows, much needed sleep taking over his beaten and battered body before he could form another thought.

It didn't take Dean long to put away the wagon; unhitching the horses was a breeze, as they were calm animals and listened more often than not. Grabbing a brush off its place hanging from a nearby nail on the wall, Dean brushed long, smooth swipes into their coats, ensuring they were cared for and comfortable before he pitched some hay into the troughs.

"Good boys," he drew softly, giving their necks a hearty pat as he checked to make sure everything in the barn was in order. Satisfied, he began his walk out to the cow pasture, noticing his muscles growing weary. He guessed it was due to the extra work he put in that day. The thought brought sympathy and just a twinge of sadness to Dean's chest as he recalled the broken look on the man's- Castiel's- face when he saw the grave they had dug for his wife. In all of Dean's life, he couldn't recall seeing anyone as empty and lost as Castiel had earlier, how grief-stricken he was when he finally turned away from the grave. Sighing, Dean clucked his tongue at the young Jersey cow, who followed him instantly back to the barn with a docile and meandering gait: she knew her schedule. Smiling slightly, Dean gave her muzzle a rub and bent to check her udder, which by the looks of it would be full in the morning.

"You better start producin' more milk or I'm gonna have to trade you in." Dean commented to the animal, who simply gazed at him with big, shining black eyes before settling in a shady corner of the barn. Shaking his head, the Winchester dipped his hands into a nearby water pail to rinse them of dirt, wiping the damp coolness on his jeans during his walk back to the house. Entering the cooler space after a few minutes, Dean headed for Castiel's room.

"Castiel?" He called, stopping when he looked up to see the other man sound asleep, face free of all previous markings of grief. Silencing his footsteps and words, Dean closed his door with the decision they could always start tomorrow. Besides, a good night's sleep meant good, quality work. Stepping out into the main room, Dean sat heavily in the creaking rocking chair to remove his dirty boots before settling back.

Running a calloused hand over his weary face, his thoughts turned to the man he had hired. He was trying so hard to be so strong, didn't want to be seen as weak, and it was sad. Simply thinking about the helpless look in the other man's eyes when they first met his twisted Dean's stomach into a sympathetic knot. He was so broken, so filled with grief that Dean could only hope he could help him. Rubbing the back of his slightly sunburnt neck, Dean heaved himself from the chair and made his way to his bed, which was empty as always. If he was completely honest with himself, he would admit that he was, however selfish it was, glad that Castiel ended up at the farm, for he was tired of coming home to an empty house, tired of eating alone, tired of being lonely. Maybe now, he could have a friend.

* * *

Castiel woke two hours before sunrise, as he always had. It took a moment, a moment of peace and serenity, before he realized where he was, and why. The realization dug the existing knife deeper into his chest and left him wondering how long it would take for the accident to register in his mind. Stopping his thoughts as his eyes searched the room for a match, he recalled Dean telling him yesterday he would go over jobs when he got back from putting the horses away.

"Damn it..." Castiel muttered lowly, stomach sinking. Only a day with this job and already he seemed like a lazy slacker. Finding a match on the nearby dresser, Castiel struck it and lit a candle, not bothering to wash his face before he entered the main room, nearly tripping over the unfamiliar furniture as the small candle barely lit his way. Looking around, he tried to figure a way to be useful, to show he wasn't useless like he seemed yesterday. Maybe he could make breakfast. As soon as the thought entered his mind, he set about it, determined to pull his weight in the deal he had made. Running a hand over his tired face, he knelt to open the belly of the stove and light what wood was left, hoping it would be enough for the preparation.

"Guess I should start with some coffee," he muttered quietly to himself, eyes flicking over each cupboard and drawer in search of the utensils he would need. After a few moments, Castiel spotted a few dark, familiar grounds below a middle cupboard, and figured that was his best guess. Quietly, he made his way over and opened the door, spotting a bag of ground coffee instantly. Muttering thanks under his breath to no one in particular, the blue-eyed man looked around once more and found what looked to be a teapot. It would do. Shrugging, he set the two items in front of him, at a loss of what to do; he had never made coffee before. Looking out the window, Castiel spotted a pump in the yard which was barely visible in the early dusk lighting. Poking the fire to keep it going while he was out, he exited out the back door and headed towards the water source. Suddenly as he walked, a shrill bark broke the silence of morning, followed by something large and slobbering knocking him to the dry ground.

"What in the hell?" Castiel nearly shouted, shoving the thing off him as he reoriented himself. Sitting up in a state of panic at the attack, his gaze was filled by a large, slobbering dog that looked happy as could be. Scowling, the blue-eyed man got himself up from the ground and dusted off, pushing the diligent animal away from his side when it followed him and tried to lick at his hand.

"Damn dog, nearly scared the life out of me." Castiel muttered grumpily as he pumped water into the available bucket that sat near. Trekking back to the house was a bit difficult due to the heaviness of the pail but he made it nonetheless and soon found himself ladling water into the kettle to start the coffee he wasn't completely sure how to make. Staring blankly at the taunting bag full of grounds, he silently wished it would simply tell him what to do instead of just sitting there. Sighing heavily, he scooped out some of the grounds and added them to the water, stirring it for good measure before he set it in the middle of the hot stove.

Satisfied with his accomplishment of creating the beverage, Castiel began to open cupboards and drawers, searching for something, anything he could use for some sort of breakfast. After a while, he had pulled out what was labeled flour, sugar and baking powder. Pancakes, simple and easy. He had seen Kate make them so many times before, how hard could it be? Trying to remember what ingredients she had used, Castiel's heart sunk at the memories of her in the kitchen, flour on her cheek where she had touched her face.

Banishing the thoughts instantly to focus on the recipe and his new job, Castiel put two handfuls of flour in a bowl along with a handful of sugar and a pinch of baking power. The mixture seemed right, so, in an attempt to make it work, Castiel added a ladle full of water and began to mix. After a few helpless minutes of mixing and adding water, he came up with a gloppy looking paste. Frustrated at his lack of knowledge, he pulled out a pan and set it roughly on the stove, adding a scoop of batter straight away. He stood for a few minutes, watching the lumpy mixture for any signs of doneness. After what he felt was enough time, Castiel placed his spatula at the edge of the cake and attempted to flip it, finding it stuck.

"Damn it," he muttered, forcing the utensil under the food until he could properly flip it. Looking at the result, his stomach sank at the sight of the half burnt, ripped up thing staring back at him from the pan. Frustrated to the point where he felt anger boiling inside of him, Castiel forced the now done cake up from the pan, relived to see the flip side brown instead of black, although it was still torn. Setting the failure on the plate beside him with a groan, he turned back to the bowl and added another scoop of batter to the hot pan. Maybe now he knew how long to cook them for, it wouldn't be so terrible. Watching carefully again, he attempted to flip the second try after counting two minutes, finding it stuck once more.

"What the hell am I doin' wrong?" He whispered quietly to himself in frustration, forcing the second cake up from the pan to flip it. Thankfully, the second one turned out brown and a bit torn, not as bad as the first. Slightly more satisfied with his efforts, Castiel used this method again and again on the small amount of batter left, ending up with a dozen pitiful looking pancakes to show for his effort. Chest swelling with slight pride at the sight of what he had accomplished, his mind turned to place settings and he quickly located plates, suspecting his boss would be up soon. Turning his back for a second to set the dishes on the small table, Castiel jumped at the sudden sound of sizzling, whipping around to find, in horror, the coffee kettle boiling over and splashing everywhere. Panic rising in him at the smoke the beverage was emitting from its place on the stove, Castiel rushed over and grabbed for the kettle. In too much of a rush to think, he wrapped his entire hand around the now scalding handle without a towel, burning himself.

"Son of a bitch!" He cursed loudly, hand yanking back in pain as the coffee helplessly boiled over. He wasn't used to using such strong language, but that had  _hurt_. It was at this exact time Dean rushed from his bedroom at the commotion, shirt half tucked into his jeans, eyes watering from the smoke filling the small cabin. Watching as Castiel burnt himself, as the coffee boiled over, Dean rushed over and grabbed a towel, wrapping it around the handle of the kettle to move it to the cool back of the stove. Acting quickly, he wiped away the coffee ground filled water that sat sizzling on the stove top and set the rag aside to tend to Castiel.

"Are ya alright?" He asked quickly, concern in his tone for the new worker. Castiel's face burned more than his hand in embarrassment as he stood in front of Dean, eyes coming up to look at the scene. Coffee and smoke was everywhere, some of it even ending up on the pancakes on which he had worked so hard. Frustrated to the near point of tears, he pushed away the familiar burn at the back of his eyes and nodded, answering with a gruff yes. He would not tear up simply because of a botched meal.

Dean's brows knitted together in sympathy at the hopeless look on the other man's face and motioned to the bucket of water. "Come on, you should rinse that off."

A few minutes of embarrassing explanation later, Castiel stood in front of the stove with a carefully wrapped towel around his burnt palm, feeling pitiful in his attempts at being useful. Dean, with sympathy for the other man, quickly got down cups, silverware and a jar of syrup. "Come on, it's not all lost. We can still eat," he reassured. Castiel nodded and kept his head held high, knowing he had looked weak before. "Here, I'll get this you sit down," he said quickly, hoping he had proved he was at least willing to work.

Dean nodded, seeing Castiel didn't want any more help. Setting the syrup down on the table, Dean sat and watched intently as Castiel served the torn up and lumpy looking pancakes, bringing the coffee next. Dean held out his cup for the other man as he poured the grainy looking coffee, sheer embarrassment on his features.

"This looks delicious, thank ya." Dean said, sincerity in his tone as he poured sugar into the grounds floating in watery looking coffee. He admired that Castiel had tried and knew instantly he was a hard worker. Castiel managed a small smile to the thanks and sat at the table next to Dean, scooping up a pancake to place on his plate. Dean did the same and added syrup before offering the sweet condiment to Castiel, who took it graciously to pour over his breakfast.

Carefully, the blue-eyed man cut into his meal, finding it tough to do. Worry rising at the simple resistance the cake offered to his knife, he slowly brought the forkful up to his mouth and bit into possibly the driest, most flour clumped, bland pancake he had ever eaten. Failure and disappointment rising in his gut, Castiel didn't look up to the other man and instead poured himself some coffee, finding it watery and filled with grounds when he tried to wash down the horrible pancake. Face burning again in embarrassment, Castiel finished his meal as quickly as he could.

"This isn't bad." Dean said with a smile, lying only a little. The poor man had been through enough this morning without criticism to add upon it, so Dean powered through the lumpy meal with compliments, even taking an extra pancake. Finishing in just a few short minutes, he sat back in his chair and patted his stomach, giving Castiel a slight smile. "That was good, thank ya." Castiel nodded, recognizing the lie but not calling him on it. "You're welcome," he said, voice rough and defeated as he cleared their plates.

Dean got up to help, and soon had the mess of the meal cleared, save for the dishes that needed to be done. "I've got to go and milk the cow, so you can go ahead and do the dishes in the leftover water," he explained, knowing Castiel didn't want to be treated like a child when it came to the work. Nodding, Castiel met Dean's eyes for just a moment, finding comforting sincerity in them. Muttering a sincere thank you in return, Castiel turned to do the dishes, recalling the kind and forgiving manner Dean had about him this morning, despite the mess in the kitchen.

Maybe it wouldn't be completely horrible.


	3. Splinters

The dishes didn't take long, although the soap stung the red, angry burn on his palm. Pushing through the pain, Castiel wiped his hands on his jeans, careful to blot the injury dry before sitting at the small table next to the stove, sighing. The morning had been a disaster, and instead of proving he was a hard worker, he proved he was incompetent to one of the major tasks Dean had assigned him in their deal. Although the farmer had seemed grateful, Castiel suspected he was just being nice out of sympathy for his situation.

Putting his head in his hands, Castiel banished the self-piteous thoughts from his head and instead turned his mind to what he had been avoiding: Kate's parents, his parents. He needed to contact them, needed to send at the very least a simple telegram informing them of what had happened and when he would be back. That is, if he could even get back, because right now, the possibility was out of the question.

Feeling a familiar burn at the back of his eyes, Castiel wiped at them angrily, frustration welling in him with the fact he couldn't seem to control his grief or thoughts as of the past two days. Hearing the door open, he looked up to see Dean filling the doorway, a soft, understanding expression on his face; he must have noticed the tears in his eyes. Embarrassed, Castiel instantly put on a straight face, meeting the other man's eyes in an act of respect and strength, proving he wasn't as weak and quivering as he had seemed lately.

"Howdy." Dean greeted, removing his hat to hang it on the peg sitting just inside the house as he closed the door. Castiel nodded in greeting, watching his hat swing ever so slightly where it hung. "Howdy," he replied, a slight drawl to his voice with the simple word.

Sitting down at the table, Dean slipped himself into a business like mode, knowing Castiel wouldn't want to be coddled into this new job. It would be best to come across as leader, an employer, not a sympathetic friend. "Alright. I've checked around the farm and have a couple a jobs you can do daily, along with some stuff I need help with today." Castiel nodded and focused on the other man's words, focused on anything other than why he was here.

"Since I work outside most of the time," Dean continued at the silent acknowledgment, "I'm gonna have you workin' in here, cooking and cleanin' mostly. Shouldn't take you long, this place is so small," he said, looking around for a moment before returning his gaze to Castiel. "In addition, you'll be feeding the chickens, milking the cow, and watering all the animals daily. You can find me around most days, unless I've gone into town. I'll mostly be workin' the wheat field out back, going into town to buy and sell seed, or finishing the new chicken coop I'm building. Does everything sound alright?"

Castiel nodded once more, grateful for the way Dean was treating him. "Yeah, that all sounds good." He was a bit worried about the cooking part, but was sure he would pick up on the task soon enough, and was appreciative of the decent workload he was provided. He wanted to pull his weight, especially with Dean's generous and kind offer. "Alright then." Dean said, getting up with a slight stretch of his tight muscles. "Let's get a move on, I'll show you around before we get to work with a fence I need help repairin'."

"Sounds good." Castiel replied quickly, excusing himself from the room for a moment to collect his hat from the bedside table where he had left it. Swiping his fingers along the brim, he smiled at the memory of Kate adjusting his hat, the recollection digging a painful longing into his chest. Shaking his head, he donned the accessory and adjusted it by himself this time, shoving away the emotions to focus on work. If he focused on work, the grief would be easier to move through, as he wouldn't be wallowing in sorrow all day. Putting on a neutral, open face, Castiel met Dean outside and began to follow him when he started heading down a small dirt walk.

"This path leads right on down to the barn." Dean explained, entering the slightly cooler, hay filled barn, met by a whinny of one of the horses and a docile glance from the young Jersey cow. Making his way to the bovine's pen, Dean clicked his tongue, causing her to amble over in obedience. "This here is Sunshine," he introduced. "She's real good about milking, and if you treat her gently, she'll be a loyal companion in no time for your mornings."

Castiel listened carefully, smiling ever so slightly as the cow curiously sniffed at him and rubbed her large, damp snout against his palm. Despite being raised to consider animals tools for work and nothing more, Castiel often found himself growing soft spots for the creatures, always felt calm and happy around them. "Hey, Sunshine," he drew under his breath, giving her a pat on the muzzle before moving onto the horses with Dean.

Dean's posture and demeanor softened slightly when he saw the gentle treatment the young dairy cow received from Castiel, knowing she was in caring hands as he led Castiel to the horses. His boss-like demeanor softened as he stroked the velvety muzzle of the horse, putting a hand under the equine's whisker filled chin to show him to Castiel. "This is Charlie," Dean started, glancing back to where the other horse stayed stubbornly in the back of the pen, "and that's Dan. They're good most of the time, you just gotta watch for their temper. Don't wanna get caught underfoot when they get moody," he finished with a slight air of humor, leading Castiel from the barn out to the field when the same dog from earlier ran up to them, nearly knocking the blue-eyed man over for a second time.

"Whoa, hey now." Dean said with a chuckle, pulling the hyper animal off of Castiel. "Sorry about that, he gets a little excited towards newcomers," he explained, patting the happy looking animal's head. "Yeah, we met this mornin'." Castiel replied, thinking back to how he had raised his voice in frustration to the dog.

"I hope he didn't cause ya too much trouble, then." Dean answered, smiling as he scratched the dog behind its floppy ear. "This is Henry." Castiel stepped forward to give the dog a pat on the head, a silent apology for his treatment this morning, which earned him another sloppy lick on his palm. "If he ever gets too excited, just push him off, he won't mind." The farmer explained, not knowing Castiel had already done so as he continued showing him around, Henry bouncing at their heels the rest of the way.

The remainder of the informal tour didn't take long. Although Dean's property was sizable, he made his explanation of each stop short, only including the details and places that counted. Soon, Castiel found them both in front of a mangled looking fence, the wood split completely in two in some places, beginning to crack in others. "As you can see," Dean started, moving forward to motion at the fence, "it's in pretty bad shape. I had a bull in here a couple weeks ago, and was planning to breed him with Sunshine." He shrugged, eyes flicking to the small pasture enclosed in the fence. "Guess he had other ideas, cause he tried to bust through this fence before the wrangler got a hold of him."

"I'm guessing you didn't breed her that day, then?" Castiel responded, attempting at some sort of friendly comment rather than the silent nod he had kept the majority of the tour. Dean smiled slightly, picking up a hammer, wood, and nails that were lying at the base of the fence. "Nah, I decided to hold off 'till next spring, there'll probably be better selection then. Anyhow, I'd been meaning to get to this fence but haven't had a chance 'til today. You work good with a hammer?" Castiel nodded, mind switching back to when he was a young boy, building a small barn with his father. "Yeah, I've done my share of carpentry," he replied, taking the hammer and nails he was offered at his answer.

"Good." Dean praised with a smile, tugging off the loose, broken boards. "I'm just gonna hold a fresh board in place and you go ahead and knock it in. Sound like a plan?" "Yeah, that sounds fine." Castiel answered, kneeling next to Dean to hammer the first nail into the bottom end of the board.

Throughout the efficient work, Castiel found himself slipping into a forgetful state of mind, his grief pushed to the side with the focused task. Although he had only been at the farm a little under a day, he already was beginning to enjoy Dean's company, enjoy the soft-spoken manner in which he treated him as an equal, treated him with kindness and respect. Although he would never state it out loud, not now at least, Castiel internally appreciated the way Dean dealt with him and his mistakes thus far, with patience and understanding.

"That's the last of 'em." Dean announced later, pulling Castiel from his thoughts. Castiel let out a breath, standing from the dusty ground to wipe at his damp neck with the already dirty bandanna that still hung around his neck, a splinter further digging its bothersome way into his thumb as it rubbed against the material. "Is there anything else I can do? I could start cleanin' the house, if ya like," he offered, wiping his brow of the sweat that threatened to drip into his blue eyes.

Dean shook his head, looking towards the house in momentary thought. "Actually, I was plannin' on heading into town today, I'm a bit short on supplies. I'm gonna need some help loading everything into the wagon, so I wouldn't mind if you came along." Castiel smiled and nodded, eager for the chance to see the town, get some new clothing, and as sad as the task was, send a telegram to Kate's parents. That was, until he remembered he didn't have a cent and couldn't do any of those things, not even the telegram, which he was sure only cost a few pennies. Although he didn't mean to show it, his face fell for a moment with the thought while they walked to the barn to get the wagon.

Noticing the disheartened look, Dean's brow furrowed in concern. "Is everythin' alright, Cas?" Instantly, Dean clamped his mouth shut, recognizing the foreign nickname that has slipped so easily from his lips. Luckily, it didn't seem to affect Castiel as he shrugged, suddenly avoiding his gaze. "Oh, it's nothin'." He said quickly, not wanting to reel off a sob story to take advantage of the kindness he knew Dean held in his heart.

Dean was silent for a long while, harnessing Dan while Castiel worked on Charlie. Suspecting his saddened look had to do with something in town, Dean looked to him. "You know, I was thinkin' you might need some new clothes. I just ordered some for myself for next spring, but you can have 'em now, they should fit right." Castiel's head nearly snapped up at the offer, eyes widening as he shook his head in rejection. "Dean," he started, using the other's name for the first time, "I can't just take your clothes."

Dean busied himself with connecting the wagon up the horse's harnesses, trying to play off what he knew Castiel considered charity. "It's fine, besides, our deal was if you came to work for me, I provide ya with what you need. You can't possibly expect to go around in just those clothes this whole time, do ya?" Castiel hesitated, looking down to his grimy clothing. "No..." He replied hesitantly, heart sinking at the fact he would have to accept the humiliating gift. He was grateful, but the fact he couldn't even manage to clothe himself, that his boss had to do it, was like a punch to the gut; he had always been a self-sufficient man. Climbing into the wagon next to Dean, he forced his head to stay high despite the charity he felt he was accepting.

"Thank ya," he said softly after a moment, truly grateful for the selfless gift he knew he needed. Dean smiled at the thanks, turning to face Castiel. "Hey, all part of the deal. Besides, workin' in old, torn up clothes does nothing but get a man more bruises and splinters than he knows what to do with."

Castiel chuckled softly at the comment, nodding in agreement as he absent-mindedly picked at the large splinter in his thumb, which had become an irritating nuisance. "You got me there," he replied, feeling less embarrassed at accepting the gift, due to Dean's quick and light humor.

"Looks like you already got a splinter. Guess we're gettin' these clothes just in time, huh?" Castiel shrugged, the slight smile not leaving his face at the other's comment. "Yeah, I guess so. Little bastard just won't get outta there," he mumbled, eyes focusing in on the small, sharp piece of wood in his hand.

Suddenly, his finger slipped from his vision, and he looked up to find Dean tugging it away to inspect his thumb. "Here, let me help." Dean said, unaware of what he was doing before he was grabbing Castiel's hand to remove the splinter, gently ridding the discomfort. Realizing an instant too late that he had just invaded Castiel's personal boundary with no second thought, Dean released his hand as if it were a hot iron. Looking up, the Winchester met the slightly shocked blue eyes of the other, a horrified feeling rising in his gut as his heart pounded. He just took a splinter out of another man's hand without another thought at the closeness and frankly, it was strange. He was lonely for a friend, but Dean didn't consider himself lonely enough to simply take the hand of a man he just met, and remove a splinter from it.

The close contact was odd to him, puzzling, and he instantly cleared his throat and turned away. "Anyway, they're pretty easy to get out if you work 'em right." he mumbled, face reddening as he flicked the reigns over the horses to get them moving.

Castiel suddenly found himself in frank eye contact with Dean, who had just grabbed his hand out of the blue and solved his splinter problem. Seeing the uncomfortable and realizing look on Dean's face, he coughed to break the silence and turned back when Dean did, puzzled at why on earth the other would find it so easy to come in physical contact as they rode out into the daylight.

Shaking his head, Castiel banished the thoughts, assuming Dean was just being as nice as he had been since he arrived. Besides, it was just a splinter removal. If they ignored what had happened, the thick air would dissipate and give way once more to the light, comfortable silence they had shared most of the day. Both thinking along the same lines of ignoring the strangely personal eye contact, they rode in silence, the only sound surrounding them the consistent jingle of the horse's harnesses.

Despite the recent, uncomfortable situation, Dean leaned back into the seat contentedly, beginning to enjoy Castiel's quiet accompaniment to his normally lonely days. He listened well, worked hard and didn't have an ounce of selfishness in his body. He would fit perfectly on the farm.


	4. Telegram

The ride into town only took about an hour, although it seemed longer due to the hot sun and sticky air that stifled the two men. When they arrived, Castiel had a chance to look at the small town in more detail than before and took in the simple shops lining a boardwalk, which couldn't have stretched more than two hundred feet both ways.

"This is it." Dean said, breaking the silence between them as he parked the wagon near the general store. Castiel's eyes continued to search around the new area, taking in all the stores and items to buy. "It seems nice." Dean smiled, nodding as he took his hat off momentarily to wipe at the sweat that threatened to drip into his eyes. "Yeah, it works. We shouldn't be here for more than a half hour." He paused for a moment, reaching into his jean pocket. "In fact, I picked up a little extra cash the other day. Why don't you go buy what ya need?"

Castiel looked at the dusty coins in Dean's outstretched hand, shame clawing its humiliating way into his thoughts. "Oh no, Dean I can't take that. It's your money." Dean smiled, nodding. "Yeah, it's my money, and I wanna give it to you. Come on, you must have something to do with it," he persuaded softly. At his words, Castiel's thoughts turned to the telegram he needed to send, and reluctantly took the money. "Thank ya, Dean."

Dean put up his hand in a wave of dismissal as he tethered the horses. "It's no problem, besides, you've done a good job so far. I can tell you'll be a hard worker," he replied with another smile, motioning towards a store that stood a couple of feet away. "I've gotta go get some feed and pick up the clothes. Why don't ya meet me back here in a bit?" Castiel felt a humble blush creep up the very back of his neck at the compliment, but pushed it down to listen to Dean's next words. "Yeah, that sounds fine," he answered, watching Dean leave before he turned to the town.

Unsure of where to start, he slowly began walking down a relatively empty side of the street, eyes flicking around the new place to find his way. It didn't take long for him to spot the telegraph wire trailing from a nearby building, his fingers fiddling with the small amount of change in his pocket as he approached and entered the slightly cooler building.

Dean headed back to the wagon slowly, arms full of the items he bought. Hefting the heavy feed bags onto the back of the worn wagon, he wiped at his damp face with the crimson bandana that hung around his neck, and placed the brown paper wrapped clothing on top of the feed bags. Looking up, he saw Castiel heading towards the wagon.

"Find everything okay?" He called as the other was walking up, seeing he had no bought items in his hands. "Yeah, thank you." Castiel replied, eyes flicking over the full wagon. "Are you ready?"

"Yep, got everything I needed. Let's get a move on." With this, Dean climbed into the wagon, Castiel not far behind before he snapped the reigns to head out. Looking to the other's face, he hesitated, curiosity overtaking him after a moment. "Didn't find anything to buy?" Castiel tensed up ever so slightly at the words, but shrugged, playing off the tense look he knew he must've had on his face. "I did. Just sent a telegram back home is all."

Dean's stomach sank at his response. "Oh." He sat in silence for a while, contemplating his next words carefully. "Ya know, if ya ever need someone to talk to, I'm always here." Normally, Dean wouldn't dream of extending his comfort to someone he had just met, especially a man, but there was something so sad and broken about Castiel that Dean would be remissed if he didn't extend some form of support.

Castiel hesitated at Dean's offer, not being one to simply open up and let it all out, but now, on the brink of collapsing under the weight of his own emotion, he decided it would be best to talk. "She was the first girl I ever loved," he said abruptly, eyes trained on his hands. Dean was surprised at the sudden uptake of his offer but nodded in understanding and waited for Castiel's next words, deciding it best to just let the other man speak.

"We just sorta fell in love with each other, and decided to move west. More opportunities, more money, a better place to raise a family... It was just everything me and her wanted." Castiel paused for a moment, his accent becoming more prominent as he talked of his past. "Her parents were against it, they had always planned for her to stay and inherit their farm." He shrugged, fighting back the slight tremble in his voice, the urge to shut his mouth and not share the weak and emotional memories he was having. "But she insisted upon going and eventually they supported her," he continued with a smile.

"They were such nice people, took me in when I didn't have anyone else. So we said our goodbyes, and went our own way." He paused and looked to Dean, half expecting him to be laughing at the vulnerability he was showing. Instead, Castiel simply saw the man was listening, open honesty shining in his eyes along with something else, something that somehow reaffirmed his earlier promise: he would be there. Feeling better about sharing, Castiel took a deep breath and went on, figuring there was no going back now. "I sent them a telegram back there, just tellin' em what happened, tellin' em I was sorry to be so careless." He looked down to his hands, feeling the story was summed up enough for the time being.

Dean nodded after a while, wanting to stay open and understanding. "Well, at least they know now. I'm sure they don't blame you," he said softly. "Yeah, they deserve to know." Castiel replied, voice wavering just slightly. "I just don't know about the blamin' part," he finished, guilt washing over him.

There was silence for a long while, the creak of the wheels the only sound between them until Dean broke the quiet air. "They seem like good people, I'm sure they'll be understanding." Castiel simply shrugged, looking up to see they were back at the farm. Collecting himself and pushing away the anger towards himself for being so sissy about the whole thing, he climbed from the wagon. "Do you need me to bring in anything?" Dean stayed at the reins in the wagon, looking behind him to think for a moment before answering. "Just grab the clothes, I'll take the feed bags to the barn and unhitch the horses. Meet ya inside in a bit." Instantly obeying the request, Castiel grabbed the brown paper wrapped garments from the back. "Sounds like a plan," he responded, heading for the small house as Dean clicked his tongue and urged the horses on.

Opening the door, Castiel set the clothing on the kitchen table and sat at a nearby chair, finally able to be alone and collect his thoughts. How could he have just shared all of that with the other man who was nearly a stranger? He probably thought he was a pansy, probably thought he couldn't keep himself together, couldn't push his problems aside for the betterment of work. Sighing shakily, Castiel forced the anger he felt towards himself away, and let the tears that had been fighting out.

No man should ever have to lose the woman he loved, especially so soon. She was so young, so in love, and all of that had been taken from her, by a simple wagon malfunction, one that Castiel had cockily overlooked. Guilt creating a knot in his stomach, he buried his face in his hands and let out a choked sob, his shoulders shaking with the effort to simply breathe through his grief.

Dean headed back towards the house, strides quick and purposeful as he walked. Reaching the half open door, his movement was stopped when he heard a shaky breath come from inside the cabin. Stomach dropping at the human sound he knew too well, he glanced in, curiosity overtaking him. However, the sight that filled his vision was not one he ever wished to see. Castiel sat at the table, face twisted in grief and half buried in his hands, shoulders shaking with quieted sobs.

Pained at the sight, Dean stepped back from his viewpoint and sunk down to sit on the ground, back resting against the outer wall of his home. Although he didn't quite know why, his heart went out for Castiel, it ached for him. He was in the prime of his life and now had to deal with this pain. He probably felt so alone. Sympathy causing his own eyes to sting, Dean took a deep, slow breath and collected himself, trying to talk himself out of caring so much for this stranger. Besides, he was just another worker. But, somehow, deep down, in the loneliest part of him, Dean already considered Castiel a friend. There was just something about his quiet mannerisms that made Dean feel comfortable, it made the other easy to work with. Although it was odd to develop a connection with another so quick, Dean didn't fight it, and simply accepted he wished to be friends with Castiel.

Resolving he would go about helping the man as best he could, Dean stood, hearing Castiel move in the kitchen. Hoping it would be a good time to enter, the green-eyed man pushed open the door to find Castiel washing his face in the kitchen basin.

"Howdy," he greeted, surprised his voice sounded completely normal considering the situation he just had outside. Castiel turned and offered Dean a small smile, as if to mask his previous state, and dried his damp face in hopes his eyes didn't give away he had been crying. "Howdy," he responded, voice not as strong as Dean's.

Dean stood in uncomfortable silence for a moment, not sure of what to say as he placed his hands in his pockets. Fingers brushing against a few folded up papers, he remembered what he had to give to Castiel and pulled the documents from his jean pocket. "I got some recipes for you while we were in town. They're from Mrs. Wilke down at the general store, she figured they might be helpful starts for ya in ways of cooking."

Castiel stepped forward and took the papers, internally relieved he wouldn't have to fumble his way through a meal like he had this morning. "This'll help a lot, thank you, Dean." Castiel said sincerely, skimming the papers.

Dean looked outside as Castiel filtered through the small stack of papers, seeing the sun was just setting over the distant mountains. "Looks like it's almost supper time," he commented, watching as Castiel lifted his eyes to look out the window, a guilty expression coloring his face.

"I'm sorry, Dean, I should've fixed us some dinner this afternoon." Dean shook his head to dismiss the comment, donning his hat once more in preparation to go back outside. "Don't blame yourself, I didn't think about it either. But, now that I am," he chuckled slightly as his stomach gave an audible growl, "I'm mighty hungry." Pausing for a moment, Dean's eyes rested on the recipe stack in Castiel's hands. "Ya know, actually, I think I spotted a recipe for fried chicken in there. If you wouldn't mind makin' that, I would love to have some. I actually have a hen out back that should be perfect, she stopped producin' eggs a while ago, so she's good for slaughter."

Castiel felt his mouth water at the thought of fresh cooked chicken and quickly filtered through the stack to find the card which had the coveted recipe on it. "Yeah, it's right here. I think I can manage it, which hen is it?" "She's the only black one out there." Dean responded, eyes flicking around his kitchen. "There's some old bread in the cupboard you can use for the coating and everything else I think you found this mornin'. I've gotta go bring in the cow and feed the horses, so I'll be back in a bit. You tell me if you ever get overwhelmed with the work I'm givin' you." Castiel nodded, appreciative of the way Dean had handled his transition into the farm and how everything worked. "I will, but I think I should be fine," he reassured, earning him a smile before Dean exited the cabin.

Letting out a determined breath, Castiel set to work, reading the recipe to gather his ingredients. It didn't take long to find everything and soon he had salt, pepper, bread crumbs, oil and flour in front of him, along with a fire roaring in the belly of the stove.

Feeling relieved that preparation had been easier than that morning, Castiel headed outside to the chicken coop, the fresh air feeling good in his lungs after crying. Watching the chickens peck around for a bit, he spotted the black hen and stepped inside the small enclosure immediately finding the chickens skittish. "Damn it," he muttered, walking slowly towards the hen. Spotting Castiel, she ran away and flapped her wings in defense, causing the man to chase her with more vigor, which only made her more agitated. "Come here you stupid bird!" Castiel said through his teeth in frustration after ten minutes of simply trying to catch the animal. He didn't recall it being this difficult to catch and slaughter a chicken.

Finally, in a last ditch effort to catch the frustrating animal, he cornered it. "I've got you now," he muttered, lunging for it. However, the bird had other ideas and tried to flap away, which Castiel was having none of. "Oh no you don't!" He nearly shouted before jumping full force at the bird, landing in a pile of chicken feces. However, despite what he was laying in, the bird was successfully trapped in his arms. Standing and catching his breath, Castiel ignored the disgusting mess on his shirt and jeans and carried the chicken to the slaughter block, frustration fueling his quick actions as he tied the squawking hen to the piece of wood. Taking the nearby axe, he put it over his head and drove it down on the neck of the bird, its head dropping off. "Gotchya." Castiel said triumphantly, wiping his dusty and dirty face before untying the headless body of the bird from the block to pluck it.

Getting all the feathers from the body wasn't difficult, as Castiel had done it many times before. Before long, he found himself back in the kitchen, the chicken cleaned and chopped up for the meal. However, despite the meat being clean, he was not. Looking down at himself, Castiel noted the dirt and feces speckled about his clothing and decided changing and cleaning up would be best before trying to cook a meal. Spotting the packages on the table he hesitated, still unsure about taking Dean's clothes, but soon grabbed the parcel and opened it, knowing it was his only option. Selecting a simple, white cotton shirt, some blue jeans, and another blue bandana, Castiel headed outside to the water pump after grabbing a bar of soap, setting the clothing beside him.

Looking around to ensure he was alone, the blue-eyed man stripped off the dirty shirt and dumped a full water pail over his head and his body, soaping up his torso above the old, dirty jeans he was still wearing. Rinsing off, he shook his hair of the water and went back into his bedroom, changing quickly into the new clothes. The cleanliness of the garments felt good, and combined with the quick cleaning, caused him to feel refreshed before he had to finish the meal preparation.

Staring at the ingredients, he read the card and shook his head to banish the memory of failure that morning. Following the steps carefully, he cracked the eggs into a bowl, determined not to make a mess of this meal. Placing pepper and salt into the eggs, he whipped them with a fork and set them aside. Next, according to the recipe, he crushed up bread crumbs and set out flour, both tasks being easy and problem free. Feeling more comfortable in the kitchen with his success, Castiel created a process for himself: roll the chicken piece in flour, dip it into the egg, and finally coat it with breadcrumbs. Soon, the eight pieces were done, ready to be placed in the pan.

"Where are you..." Castiel muttered to himself, eyes darting around as he tried to remember where he had set the pan this morning. Spotting it near the wash basin, he grabbed the heavy cast iron and set it on the stove, adding some oil. Soon, the viscous liquid was crackling in the pan, signaling its readiness as the recipe has said. Placing the chicken in all at once, Castiel jumped back when the pieces instantly began to pop, the oil bubbling around them.

Determined not to be put off by cooking chicken, Castiel stepped forward, spatula in hand and tried to flip a piece, causing a searing droplet of oil to jump from the pan onto his arm. Cursing, he wiped off the offending drop of fat and tried flipping the chicken again, this time being quick about the action. It seemed to work and soon he found a way to properly flip the meat, which was done in only a few minutes. Plating up the meal, Castiel felt pride well in his chest at what he had accomplished as he set the golden brown chicken pieces on the table, just in time for Dean to enter.

"Somethin' smells good." Dean commented, eying the meal on the table before his eyes traveled to Castiel. Spotting the new clothes on him, Dean felt relief in his chest, glad the clothes fit the other.

Castiel smiled proudly at the compliment, not seeing Dean's notice of his change of clothing. "Thank you, Dean," he replied, passing the other man a plate as they sat down. Watching carefully as Dean took a bite, Castiel's stomach knotted, hoping he had done alright. "Wow." Dean proclaimed through the mouthful, a smile on his lips at the simple, satisfying meal. "This is delicious." Castiel beamed and took his own bite, finding it was good. "Thank ya," he said once more, taking another bite as he realized just how hungry he was.

After a few minutes, Dean found himself working through his third piece and looked up to Castiel. "Did you have any trouble gettin' this together?" Castiel paused for a moment, thinking about the difficult time he had in the chicken coop. "No," he lied, not wanting to seem foolish, "everything went fine." Dean smiled. "That's good, I was hopin' so."

The meal was soon over, the chicken bones the only think uneaten. Standing, Castiel cleared both their places and headed to the wash basin. "Here, let me help ya with that." Dean said, standing. "That's alright, I can get it." Castiel quickly replied, not wanting to place more work on Dean's shoulders. "Nah," Dean started, lighting two of the three lanterns in the room as darkness fell, "I'll help. Besides, I don't have anything else to be doing. You wash, I'll dry."

Castiel hesitated for a second, but gave in, turning towards the dishes as the soft glow of the lanterns flooded the room. Handing Dean a washed plate, he enjoyed the silent help beside him, a content peace settling over him in the normal, domestic task. After a while, Castiel found himself washing the last dish. Clearing his throat through the silence, he thought out how to express the gratitude he felt towards Dean. "I just wanted to thank you," he said softly, handing over the heavy pan. "You've been real hospitable these past few days and with my circumstances, you've helped me more than anyone should."

"Well it's no problem, besides, I needed someone to help me out." Dean replied, appreciating how much humility the thanks must've taken the other man, as self-reliance was obviously important to him. "You've earned your place so far. So, thank you too," he finished, voice softening ever so slightly. Castiel felt relief go through him at Dean's understanding gratefulness, knowing now the green-eyed man acknowledged he was trying his best. Peace winding through him for the first time in days, Castiel reached for the wash rag to clean the counters. "Here, I'll take care of the rest."

At Castiel's words, Dean shook his head and reached for the towel at the same time. "No, that's alright I'll ge-" he started, words instantly stopped when he found his hand directly on top of Castiel's. Looking up in embarrassment, he met the blue eyes of the other man, finding them looking as panicked and confused as he felt.

Castiel felt Dean's hand lay on his and instantly snapped his head up, feeling an unidentified rush go through him when his eyes met the other man's eyes. After a moment, he felt an embarrassed and confused flush run up his neck at his delayed reaction, at their close proximity, and pulled his hand away. "It's really alright, I'll get it," he said quickly, clearing his throat as he turned to the counters.

Dean, panicked and utterly humiliated by the strange reaction he had over the simple mistake, decided to let Castiel finish up cleaning and exited out the back door. Walking quickly, he soon found himself out near the trees at the back of his property, and sat beneath one, the night air around him cool and refreshing. Not sure what had just happened, Dean ran a hand over his face. Having that simple contact with Castiel, the simple glance into his eyes, it had caused a rush of what almost felt like love to go through him. But, no, of course that couldn't be it. He had just been lonely for too long and was perceiving his emotions all wrong, besides, he was a man, and men didn't  _love_  other men. Sighing, Dean leaned his head back onto the rough bark of the tree and looked up at the stars, hoping by the morning the uncomfortable incident would be forgotten.


	5. The Weight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a little note for this chapter and for all upcoming chapters... Back in the 1800's, "dinner" was what we now call lunch, and "supper" was what we now call dinner. Just thought that might help you understand the story flow a little better, if you didn't already know that!

That night, Castiel went to bed with an uncomfortable pit in his stomach. The way he had seemed to warm up to Dean so quickly was, quite frankly, disturbing. Dean was his boss, someone good who took him in his time of need, not his friend. Besides, without Kate, why was he happy? It had only been three days since he lost her, and already it seemed he was getting into a routine.

Sighing, Castiel sat on the bed, swallowing the emotion he felt rising in his throat like bile at the thoughts swirling around in his head. He should be grieving, keeping to himself, because god knew how he needed to form another bond with someone he would eventually have to leave. But somehow, around Dean, he felt comfortable, felt free from the grief that overcame him every time he was alone. Wiping away the tears he noticed trekking down his worn cheeks, Castiel swallowed once more and slid under the covers of his bed, hoping for the sleep he knew wouldn't come easily.  
  


* * *

  
When Castiel woke, he was lying face down in what felt like gritty earth. Gasping at the sudden cold, he jerked his face from the damp sand, spitting out the grit as his vision cleared.

"Hello?" He croaked out, his words inhibited by his scratchy, sand filled throat. Coughing violently in reaction to the foreign substance in his trachea, Castiel stumbled towards a nearby river, falling to his knees in front of the rushing current to get a much needed drink. Gasping for air as he came up from the frigid water, the blue-eyed man looked around, panic beginning it's slow and creeping onset into his mind at his unfamiliar surroundings.

"Anybody out there?" He called, more confidence and volume in his words as he stood from his knees to begin walking along the water's edge. "Hello? Anyb-" He began, his words startled away by a tap on his shoulder. Relief flooding through him at the presence of another person, he turned, not prepared for the sight that met him. Stumbling back as if he had been burned, Castiel found himself fall onto the sand, his blue eyes turned up to the dripping figure in front of him.

"Hello, Castiel." Kate murmured softly, her blue lips curving into a soft smile. Stammering on his words, Castiel's heart hammered in his ears at the ghastly sight of his wife. "Kate?" He managed to gasp out after a moment, his eyes widening to take in the painful sight. Kate nodded, a subtle, barely detectable glint of anger flashing in her violet eyes. "It's been a few days since we've seen each other," she stated softly, stepping towards him as a sad, sickened look crossed her pale features. "I've missed you."

"How are you here?" Castiel blurted out, barely able to comprehend her words in the shocked state he found himself. Tears began to make their way down Kate's face as she looked down at the man on the ground. "Is that all you care about? Don't you miss me too?" She asked, demanding in her tone as her anger became quickly apparent. "Or are you just concerned 'bout how I'm here, seeing as you're the one who killed me?"

Castiel's breath came to a halt at her sudden change in subject, his head shaking side to side in a quick display of rejection. "What? No, it was the river, it was an accident..." He stuttered out, panic rising as tears filled his eyes at her accusing words.

"Oh," Kate began, backing Castiel up against the river's edge with every step she took towards him, "but you did. Don't you remember, Cassy?" She continued slowly, eyes burning with anger despite the sweet, melodic sound of her words. "The wagon broke, the wagon  _you_  built. The river never would 've killed me if you hadn't been so prideful about that crossing."

"Kate, please..." Castiel said softly, tears streaming down his face at her haunting sight, at her frank words. "If I knew, I never would have crossed, never even would've left tow-"

"But ya did!" Kate argued, cutting off his desperate words as she strode quickly towards him. "You know full well ya coulda saved me, and you didn't! But, you did save yourself, didn't ya?" She accused, grabbing the back of his shirt collar to turn his face to the now still and glassy water. "You saved your own skin, just so you could live it up with your new friend without your wife bringin' you down.".

"Please, Kate!" Castiel sobbed out, struggling against his wife's hold as she forced his eyes to look upon his reflection in the moonlit water. "I never wanted this to happen, I wish everyday it had been me instead'a you!"

"Yeah..." Kate answered, her cold grip loosening on the back of his neck for a moment as her eyes met his in the water's reflection. "In the three days you've been without me, you've wished that, especially when you're happy talking to that handsome farmer.".

At his wife's words, Castiel felt guilt wash over him, and opened his mouth to talk. "It's not li-" he began, his rationalization cut off when his face was suddenly plunged into the icy water before him. Flailing at the sudden attack, he resisted against Kate's grip, which held him under the now rushing current. In a panic, his hands quickly searched for purchase against anything as his lungs began to burn, his oxygen running low. He tried to cry for help, but only found his mouth full of water at the action, Kate only pushing his head further into the icy slush.

"Come on now, you don't think I would've let you get away with killing me, did you?" He heard Kate say, her voice muffled by the dense liquid filling his ears. "Well, I guess now we're square," she said, the words barely registering to Castiel as he gasped for air, drowning in desperation for oxygen.   
  


* * *

  
Gasping in fresh, muggy air, Castiel bolted straight up in bed to discover a cold sweat covering his body. It had all been a dream, he realized, the terror he felt slowly beginning to fade into an unfathomable sadness. Bursting into tears at the fresh memory of the nightmare, what it had consisted of, Castiel fell back onto his pillow and curled up into himself, weeping softly. All of what Kate had said, every point of fault she brought up, it was all true, and it was drowning him in guilt. How dare he be so happy, so content, when just days ago he had caused his wife's death?  
  


* * *

  
Castiel was somehow different the next day. Dean couldn't place it, but something about the way he carried himself was wrong, he seemed far more closed off and cold than before.

"Guess the recipes are helpin'." Dean commented to break the silence as he took a large bite of eggs, only having to crunch through a small piece of shell. Castiel shrugged, nodding politely. "Yeah, they've helped a lot," he said, sounding more distant than he intended to.

Dean noticed the change in the other's tone, but decided not to mention it as he finished off the slightly over done meal. "Well, I better get out there. I've gotta plow the rest of the field today, and it's not gonna be easy work," he explained, standing with a small smile which wasn't returned by Castiel. "If ya need any help, you know where to fine me," he offered in a last effort, grabbing his hat. "Okay." Castiel responded, avoiding Dean's gaze as he gathered up the plates.

It wasn't as if he wasn't grateful for what the Winchester was doing for him, or that he wanted to hurt the other man, but the dream he had the night previous has affected him, and not for the better. Trying to push the memory from his mind, Castiel placed the dishes in the bucket and began to wash them. With every swipe of the rag, words came back to him from the dream, words that Kate had spoken, accusations that were all too true. She was right, he was letting her go too quickly. What kind of man was he, to be the one to kill his wife, and then go off to live a happy, comfortable life with a friend?

Noticing a ripple in the dirty water before him, Castiel realized he was crying. Shaking his head to himself, he roughly wiped away the tears, not willing to acknowledge the feelings that had surfaced from his dreams. All he had to do was push through them, and he would be fine.

Dean walked to the fields slowly, his pace dictated by the slight fatigue that had crept up on him this morning. He wasn't usually this tired, but the incident with Castiel the night previous had kept him up, kept him thinking about what had exactly happened. Sure, it was an innocent mistake, a simply brush of skin against skin but... somehow it had felt different. Dean had felt a jolt go through him at the contact of their fingertips, something he hadn't felt since he first held a girl's hand. It was strange, feeling the same way about another person, especially when that other person was a man you just met. Shrugging off the thought with the rationalization of, again, feeling lonely, Dean entered the cool barn to grab a plow and begin the day's work.

There was something cleansing, about being out in the fields. Working the soil, watching as the rich earth turned under his plow to yield crops made Dean feel every splinter and sore muscle was worth it. So he walked to and fro all morning, turning row after row on his land to loosen the previously snow packed soil for spring planting. Although the work was hard the first time out for the year, Dean still enjoyed it, relishing in the feeling of the warm sun on his damp back as he toiled on the farm he had worked so hard to build.

Breathing hard, Dean wiped his brow and looked up to the sun, which was just approaching the middle of the sky. Sighing in relief for the break, he began his trek back towards the house, figuring Castiel must be making dinner for the two of them. However, instead of finding the other man hard at work, Dean found the house empty, the kitchen untouched.

"Castiel?" He called into the shadowed silence of the main room, receiving nothing but silence in response. "Castiel, uh, you should be makin' dinner," he continued as he checked both the small rooms, finding them empty as well. Puzzled, Dean ignored the slight growl of his stomach and exited out the back door, worry rising ever so slightly in his throat. "Cas?" He yelled, hoping the nickname would carry to wherever his employee was. "Where are ya?"

Eyebrows creasing as his worry nearly doubled at the silence that followed his question, Dean began to walk faster along the outline of his small property, knowing all too well of the accidents that could happen here, especially near the river. It was such a steep, sudden drop off one side down to the water, anyone could be walking and just... fall. Breath catching in his throat for the other man, Dean began sprinting on the path towards the embankment, a mantra of 'no' repeating in his head at the horrifying possibility.

"Casti-" he began to call, his voice cut off by Castiel's small frame standing near the drop off, turned towards the river. "Castiel, damn it, don't make me worried like that." Dean said, his accent becoming more apparent with worry. "There's so much that could go wrong, you coulda had an accident."

At Dean's sudden appearance, Castiel's stomach only twisted more as he turned to face the slightly taller man. "Why didn't ya tell me there was a river here?" Dean faltered at the angry look on Castiel's features, the out of the blue question taking him a moment to process before answering. "It was way back here, an' I figured I could just show you the basics. I was gonna show you around in more detail later."

Castiel looked to Dean with hard, red rimmed eyes, the guilt and sadness wrapped so tight around his heart he could no longer hold himself together. "You should'a told me." Dean's brows furrowed in confusion at the statement. "I, uh, figured the river wasn't that important and with it bein' a ways away from everything else, I didn't think it would be a problem," he defended gently, watching the other carefully for a response in his unusual state.

Castiel didn't respond, fear welling up inside of him at the prospect of admitting, even to himself, why the sight of the river had affected him to such an extent. He didn't want to tell Dean that stumbling across that river had caused him to panic and sure as hell didn't want to tell Dean how much the sight had cause him to cry. Looking to the ground in shame, he felt hot tears well in his eyes once more, no longer in enough control to fend them off with the harmful emotion building inside him.

"Cas?" Dean asked, noticing the glint of silent tears in the blue eyes of the other. "Don't call me that!" Castiel burst out suddenly, uncaring of the damp droplets sliding down his cheeks as his grief bore down upon him. "We aren't friends, Dean! I don't even know you, yet here you are actin' like we've known each other for years!"

Dean was taken aback by the sudden outburst, something deep inside of him sinking with lonely regret. He knew he should've given Castiel space. "Castiel, I'm sorry if I did anything wrong." The green-eyed man began, taking a step forward to try and calm the obviously distraught other. "I just thought you might need someone there, after..." He trailed off, moving his hand to gently rest on Castiel's shoulder. "Look, why don't you come insid-"

Warm comfort wrapped its way around Castiel's thudding heart at Dean's soft compassion, which was almost instantly broken by the soft touch on his shoulder. He shouldn't be comforted, especially after what he had done. "No!" Castiel yelled suddenly, cutting off Dean's offer as he pushed him away with a hard shove. "Don't you ever mention what happened. I'm not here so you can mock how I failed everyone important to me, how I killed my wife!" He shouted, looking to Dean's blurred figure through his tears. He stood still in shock for a moment, his own words registering. In an instant, the realization crashed down upon him, he found himself crumpled on the forest floor, heavy sobs wracking his small frame as he broke under the weight of his grief.

Dean stumbled back at the hard shove, almost losing his balance as Castiel continued to yell. Watching as the other man sunk to the ground in sobs, he felt his stomach drop in an unnatural twist of sympathy and anger. Biting at the hurtful words with which he knew he wanted to retaliate, Dean simply stood, watching the other until he looked up. When Castiel's red rimmed eyes finally met his, Dean shook his head side to side, a grim, slow and silent gesture that conveyed more than words could. Turning on his heel after a moment, the farmer walked off in quick strides, not wanting Castiel to see the hurt tears that had sprung up in his own eyes. All he wanted was a friend, and now it seemed the one person he enjoyed being around hated him.


	6. Beginnings

Castiel knew Dean was going to kick him out. It wasn't out of instinct, or some sort of sixth sense, it was simple logic. He had yelled at the farmer for no reason, simply because he was in pain. Admittedly, he wasn't in full control of himself at the time, and it was almost as if he was watching himself push Dean back, instead of consciously doing so. But, he knew that was no excuse; he had betrayed Dean's generous trust in him. It seemed he just couldn't handle himself under the stress of grief.

Lifting himself from the damp ground, Castiel headed back into the cabin, the decision set in his mind. Quickly, he strode to his room, determined to be of use one last time. Jaw set against emotion, he pulled the covers tight over the bed, refilled the oil in the small desk lantern, and swept out the dirt he had tracked in over the past days. If he was going to leave, he would leave a clean room.

Meanwhile, Dean stood stock still in the barn, deep, shuddering breaths occupying his attention as he fought to stave off tears. It was utterly ridiculous, he had known Castiel for but a day; there had been barely enough time to get the other man situated, let alone form an attachment to him. But somehow, Dean had grown fond of the man he barely knew, and that fondness had obviously scared him away. It wasn't just that, either: he had overstepped his bounds, he had tried to comfort Castiel in a situation in which he was not welcome and for that, he wouldn't let himself calm down.

So there the farmer stood, hand over his eyes, which had betrayed him by watering. He would have to go back, would have to apologize to Castiel and hopefully work out whatever had happened. But for now, he decided, would give the grief filled other much-needed space and talk to him later that afternoon.

After leaving his room clean and tidy, Castiel made his way out to the kitchen, rummaging around for a moment for a pencil and paper before he came to stand at the table, steadying himself against the solid wood as emotion tried to overwhelm him once again. Shaking off the feelings, he quickly scribbled a note onto old paper he had found in the kindling pile by the stove, hoping it would be enough to seal his absence. ' _I'm sorry. Good luck with the farm._ '

With that, he grabbed his dirty clothes and Kate's picture, and walked out the door, regret mingling with the grief and guilt already present in the pit of his stomach. He wasn't far from the house when Henry gave a happy bark and bounded up to him, tongue lapping at Castiel's trembling hand in a friendly gesture. "Go on, go find somethin' else to do." Castiel managed to get out through his saddened tone, giving the dog's ear a scratch before gently pushing his face away. "Get." Henry gave Castiel a panting, open-mouthed smile and lapped at his hand once more, trailing beside him despite the order. However, when Castiel stepped beyond Dean's property line fence, the canine stopped and sat in the grass, head cocked to the side in confusion.

Castiel smiled sadly at the dog's happy naivety, which he had grown to be fond of despite the annoyance he had felt the first morning at the farm. "Take care that Dean stays safe." The blue-eyed man commanded, despite the knowledge the animal didn't have the cognitive ability to understand his words. No matter, it made him feel he was giving someone a proper goodbye.

Turning away before he could become too lost in thought, Castiel walked down the road, not sure what he would do from here, and not really caring. If he got to town and ended up a street bum, or worse, starved to death, he would deserve it. With his recent actions, who would think any differently? So, he walked on, jaw steeled against his welling grief.

Dean had soon collected himself enough to pitch a small amount of hay into the horse's troughs and check on Sunshine, who, he determined, would be ready for milking come morning. Feeling a bit foolish for his tears, the Winchester splashed water over his too-warm face and quickly scrubbed his hands clean from the grime of the day, taking his time to put off the difficult apology he knew he had to make. But soon, his hands were as clean as they could get, and Dean knew, as his father used to say, there's no time like the present. With this mentality, the green-eyed man walked the short distance to the cabin, expecting Castiel would be in his room or around back where he had left him. Hoping his employee had come in from the now mosquito flecked air outside, Dean stepped in the slightly cooler cabin and removed his hat, setting it on the peg.

"Castiel?" He called hesitantly, remembering with a pang of shame not to use the nickname he had adopted. Not earning a response, the farmer walked the short distance to where Castiel's room was located, finding the door ajar and the space empty. Oddly empty. Stomach sinking ever so slightly at the all too vacant room, Dean turned and tried to ignore a nagging suspicion at the back of his mind. His efforts were wasted, however, when he made his way back to the slightly shadowed dining room to see a small paper in the center of the table. Puzzlement and concern mingling in his expression, the green-eyed man stepped forward to lift the thin parchment from the sanded wood, his gaze flicking over the carefully scribed words: ' _I'm sorry. Good luck with the farm._ '

As soon as the words registered in his mind, Dean's heart sank into the pits of his stomach, his breath escaping from his body as his lungs felt constricted, all the nerves in his body trembling. Knowing Castiel had thought so low of his own actions that he felt compelled to leave, knowing that the other man didn't realize he wasn't the only one at fault caused immense guilt to crash over Dean. Placing a calloused hand onto the edge of the roughly hewn table, he tried to collect himself and get his thoughts straight despite the light wave of nausea that permeated his every sense, that made it impossible for him to think of anything else but the issue at hand. Castiel was leaving, and thought it was the right thing to do.

"No." Dean muttered, not realizing the syllable had slipped past his own lips before he found his fingers placing his hat back on his head, feet already striding out the door.

Castiel had already walked about a half mile from the farm, every step bringing him equal amounts of guilt and relief, condemnation and freedom. However, it wasn't long before he heard heavy foot falls behind him, causing him to cease his own travel. Turning with a dreading expression to the only source of the sound possible in a five-mile radius, Castiel stopped in his tracks to wait for Dean, despite his want to never face the man in his shame again.

"Castiel." Dean greeted softly, his breath coming in slight pants from running to catch the other man. Castiel nodded in response, meeting Dean's eyes for a moment of surprise, as the green depths were filled with concern and guilt, not anger like he'd expected. "Hello, Dean."

Dean's eyes took in all the elements of his employee in a second, noting the only thing held in Castiel's long fingers were the clothes he wore when he first arrived at the farm. "What're you doing?" He asked, despite already knowing the answer. Castiel hesitated for a moment on his response, his palm grasping the denim wad of cloth in a tighter grip than before. "I figured it'd be best if I left."

"You figured wrong." Dean replied, no malice or anger in his tone; only gentle fact. "It's alright, ya know," he continued, choosing his words carefully, "to feel sad, to feel angry. I'm not gonna mock you or talk behind your back just for how the world's been treating you." Looking over to Castiel's guilt stricken face, Dean shook his head. "And no, I'm not gonna kick you out for what ya did. Yeah, I'm disappointed at what you said, but that doesn't mean I'm gonna be cruel to you. It just means maybe I need'ta give ya your space. It means I need to learn boundaries, and I'm sorry I didn't set them before."

At Dean's words, Castiel felt both guilt and relief flood through him. It was true, he could feel angry, sad, even guilty, and still try to get on with his life. Nerves soothed at the miniscule, yet still present beginnings of healing from what the farmer had said, Castiel took a breath and looked to Dean. "I don't know what to say," he began, neck burning in embarrassment. "I guess an apology is in order, though. I'm sorry I made such a scene. I really am thankful for what you've done for me."

Dean shrugged noncommittally, boot toe unconsciously scuffing the dirt beneath him. "I know you are, and it's alright, really. But, to be honest, I can't hold onto this farm anymore without someone to help. A few weeks ago, before you showed up, I had my land ownership threatened because I wasn't producin' more resources than I was taking in. But now you're here to help out, I'll have more time to work the fields and produce a bigger, better crop." Dean looked up, hoping he didn't sound as if he was pleading. "I can't afford to lose my only employee right now because of some small incident."

Castiel looked back to the small farm in the distance, fresh guilt washing over him as he realized how selfish his action of leaving had been. Couldn't he do anything right? Shaking off the self-ridicule for the moment, the blue-eyed man turned back to Dean, who, for the first time, looked weary and worn, his shoulders slumped under the weight of stress he had hidden before. Nodding, Castiel put out his hand. "I'll do whatever I can, to make this right, and to help you," he promised, looking down to his outstretched hand. "I may not be a good man, but I'll try my damnedest to be a good employee."

Dean took Castiel's hand, giving it a firm shake before releasing it to listen to the other's view of himself. And, at his words, Dean found his hands wanting to shake him, to tell him he was a good man, he was honest and kind and respectable, but he knew now was not the time for his strange, quick developing admiration to show. So instead, he gave Castiel a short, barely-there smile and a nod, turning back the path. "That sounds like a plan," he agreed, feet already leading him back home.

Night had fallen by the time the two men reached the small cabin, the barely visible sight of Henry racing energetically ahead of them the only indication they were going the right way. "I've got some old biscuits and jerky down in the cellar we could have, since nothing's been planned." Dean commented as they neared the door, Castiel nodding as a slight tinge of guilt colored his cheeks. "I'll go get em, you get washed up."

Castiel nodded once more, noticing for the first time since that afternoon that his hands were nearly caked in dust and grime from collapsing on the river bank earlier that day. Wincing at the fresh memory, and assuming his face didn't look any cleaner, the blue-eyed man made his way back to the pump and gathered a small amount of water in his palms. Working quickly, he splashed the cool liquid over his face, arms, and neck, only having to smack away a few mosquitoes in the process. Feeling refreshed, he walked back into the cabin and lit the lanterns set about the room. Watching the soft orange glow illuminate the small space around him, Castiel sat himself at the table just as Dean walked in, food wrapped in a small dish cloth.

"Everything's still fairly fresh, I had 'em sealed up in a tin." Dean said, the air still slightly thick as he pulled out a chair and passed the food to Castiel, who gratefully accepted. The two men ate in silence, both their thoughts lost in separate places that deemed words unnecessary. Soon, Dean rose from the table, throwing a biscuit and a piece of jerky out to Henry before heading back to his room, sounding as if he was rummaging around for something.

Shrugging off the heavy weight that had fallen upon his shoulders from getting lost in his own thoughts, Castiel, too, rose and cleared the crumbs and plates from the table, heading to the wash basin to finish what little work there was to be done. He heard Dean grab a chair and exit the cabin behind him, but didn't turn and instead focused on the soapy water before him. He would have to apologize once more, just to be sure everything was cleared up, he decided. He never really had told Dean he felt bad for saying they weren't friends, because, in a way, they were slowly becoming exactly that.

Placing the last, now-dried dish in the cupboard, Castiel undid the bandana he had forgotten was still around his neck. He headed towards his room, the weight of fatigue weighing on him heavily. However, his footsteps were soon stopped by the sudden, soft sound of a guitar floating through the air, peaking his curiosity. Puzzlement pulling his brows together, the blue-eyed man turned and headed slowly to the slightly ajar front door, leaning on the frame to listen to the soft, unfamiliar singing that now surprised him into silence.

 _"I can make you satisfied in everything you do."_ Dean sang, his voice a perfect mix of harmony and smooth melody, like warm honey and butter sliding off a piece of bread.  _"All your secret wishes could right now be coming true. Spend forever, with my poison arms around you, no one's gonna fool around with us."_ The farmer continued, the soft lyrics causing a strange warmth to well in Castiel's chest, one he didn't notice until the voice and instrument ceased. It was then that Castiel realized he couldn't put off his second apology to Dean, and figured now, when he felt his grief over Kate slightly lessened by the soft song, was the best time to do it.

"Dean?" Castiel asked softly, stepping fully outside to meet the contented gaze of the other. Looking to the dark landscape for a moment, he took a breath, unsure of why finding the right words was seeming so difficult at the moment. "I just wanted to apologize again, for earlier. You didn't deserve it," he cleared his throat, unsure he should say the next words, "you bein' so kind and all."

Dean smiled ever so slightly, feeling once again a close-knit unity with the man sitting next to him that healed his loneliness. "I know you are," he confirmed. "And if that helped ya with what you're goin' through, even if just a bit, then don't continue feeling poorly over it."

Immensely grateful at the constant forgiveness and patience Dean had showed him, Castiel looked down to the ground as embarrassment burned its crimson trail to his cheeks. "I didn't mean all I said, I would like to be friends, eventually."

At the sudden, unexpected words, Dean couldn't help but feel happiness rush through him. However, he knew he must contain it in order to respond properly to the other man. Taking a soft breath, he leaned his guitar against the side of the house and stood. "That would be good, I think." Dean agreed gently, choosing his every word carefully as to not overstep his bounds once more.

Castiel felt a smile tug at the very corner of his lips, the first one in days. "Thank you, Dean," he said with another, larger, grateful smile, the sadness leaving his eyes for just a moment.

Dean nodded, grabbing his instrument to head inside. "Anytime," he answered with a nod, stopping on his way into the cabin to look back to the other man. "Oh, tomorrow's Sunday, you won't have as big a workload."

Nodding in acknowledgment, Castiel watched as Dean stepped inside before he flicked his eyes back up to the dark night sky. Even after the amends they had made, Castiel found his guilt was still present, as was his grief, and Kate's words still lurked in the back of his mind. But, after the small conversation with Dean, Castiel felt he would be able to form a proper friendship, and could truly start on the long, difficult path back to happiness.


	7. Painful Realization

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter, Dean will deal with conflicting feelings. Back in this time period homosexuality was widely ridiculed, people even went so far as to say homosexual individuals were depraved criminals and/or insane. So, please keep this in mind while you read. Enjoy!

Pleasure was thrumming throughout his body, igniting his every nerve in a way he ha never felt before. Gasping, Dean kissed down a pale neck, catching glimpses of dark hair, flashes of blue eyes wide with lust as he rutted his cock against sweat-slicked skin.

"Oh, damn," he muttered, feeling his cock jerk as a drop of precome beaded to provide a slicker feeling against the body he was thrusting desperately against, arousal consuming every one of his senses, only leaving the feeling of heated skin under his fingertips, skin he was currently making crawl with pleasure.

A muffled voice sighed above him, almost sounding like a name, but Dean couldn't be bothered to care, he was so close, on the brink of release, his breath held in delicious anticipation. Biting his lip, he looked up to his partner's face just as orgasm was about to overtake him, his breath stopping suddenly for a completely different reason. There laid Castiel, sprawled beneath him, lips parted wantonly as his fingers traced Dean's sides. "Dean," he said in his low, raspy voice, keening up to meet his lips, "come for me."

With these words, Dean's eyes snapped open with waking, his back arching as orgasm overtook him in reality, sticky release flooding his night wear in pleasure he hadn't felt the likes of in months. It took a moment of post orgasmic pleasure before he realized what just happened, of whom he was dreaming of, and suddenly he felt sick enough to throw up. Coughing, he leaned over the side of his bed, dry heaves wracking his body.

He had just found another  _man_  attractive enough in his dream to find release and now, in waking, he still couldn't deny this fact. Collecting himself after a few moments, Dean breathed heavily, feeling disgusted at the sludgy mess around his crotch that proved he wasn't having a horrible nightmare.

Standing on shaky legs, he changed out of his underclothes and into fresh ones, climbing back into bed after a moment. He wasn't a degenerate, he hadn't ever done wrong in his life, and now here he was being attracted to another man. Staring up at his ceiling, Dean thought about the past two weeks, and suddenly it all made sense. The first day Castiel was at the farm, he got a splinter, which Dean had promptly removed without thought to the new employee's personal space. That heavy feel of the air afterward, Dean now knew had been caused by his unknown attraction.

The first night, when he had helped Castiel wash the dishes, their hands had brushed. He didn't know it at the time, but now, thinking back on it, it was attraction.

The first time Castiel had yelled at him, when he had pushed him back, Dean had felt not anger but hurt, hurt that stemmed from what he thought was a lonely friendship. No, now he knew it was attraction.

The night, two weeks ago, when Castiel made amends for his breakdown, when Dean had felt compassion and happiness well in him, that too, had been attraction.

Head spinning at the realization, Dean felt another wretch run through his body, this one caused by guilt cascading over him. He had taken a nice man into his home, a good man, a good employee, and now he was having these thoughts about him, thoughts that no man should ever have about another. Sickness permeating his every nerve, Dean laid in bed, unable to think of anything else than his current problem, the problem that he somehow had no control over. He always thought of himself as a good man, but now, he wasn't so sure.  
  


* * *

  
Castiel woke the next morning, unaware of the frightening realization that had gone on in the room next to his the night before. Rising from his bed with a tired groan, he pulled on clothing slowly, thoughts turning to Kate as they did each morning in this time he had to himself.

Today, he thought of the first time he saw his wife, across a dance hall lit by fancy colored lanterns. She had her hair up that day, pinned beautifully to frame her face. And oh, he had been so nervous to talk to her but ever since he had, he never had been so happy with a decision. Sighing to himself as he finished tying his blue bandana around his neck, Castiel pushed the tears from his eyes, exited his room, and headed for the kitchen, deciding on pancakes again. He hadn't attempted to make them since his arrival two weeks ago, but figured now he had a recipe it wouldn't be so bad.

Dean woke from about an hour's worth of sleep with a jolt, a headache instantly wrapping its painful fingers around his mind. It took him a moment, but soon he remembered what had happened the previous night, remembered the reason he couldn't sleep. Sighing, he sat up, rubbing a tired hand over his eyes. All he had to do was ignore what had happened, and it would go away. He had just been alone for so long, it was just a side effect of the lack of human interaction.

Still not fully convinced of the fact, but willing to try and rationalize his depraved dream any way possible, the farmer rose from his bed and dressed, the smell of pancakes wafting through the small house. Normally this breakfast, his favorite, would have provided him with a smile; but that morning, still feeling sickened with himself, Dean exited his room, avoiding looking at Castiel as he sat at the kitchen table.

"Good morning, Dean." Castiel commented, the arrival of his boss pulling him from more thoughts of Kate. The thoughts seemed to still linger throughout the day, as did the feeling of a hole in his chest, but Castiel had found that ever since he had accepted Dean's offer at a second chance at the farm, he had unconsciously given himself a second chance, and in doing so began to heal. He still cried himself to sleep, still missed his wife terribly, but now, throughout the days at the farm, the grief was bearable, and he found he could begin to form a friendship with Dean.

Dean looked up from the table to where Castiel gave him a short smile, setting the plates on the table before bringing the food over. "Mornin'," he replied gruffly, clearing his throat.

Castiel instantly noticed Dean's change in demeanor and tone, but a glance towards him while he dished up the food, the blue-eyed man saw the farmer looked fatigued. "Didn't get much sleep last night?" He asked, sitting down to his meal of pancakes and coffee, the meal a vast improvement from the last attempt.

Dean cringed inwardly at the question and what meaning it held, at least to him, and nodded. "Not much," he replied, eating despite his lack of appetite. He hoped he wasn't acting too off-putting, but in his disturbance, it was difficult to act anything but.

Castiel looked to Dean, puzzled and a bit dejected at his sudden change in mood but then chided himself: the other man was allowed to have bad days, too. Clearing his throat, he turned back to his meal, sitting to eat in silence until the conclusion of the meal. "So, not much work today, right?" He asked, rising to clear the table after he downed his last bit of coffee.

Dean nodded, feeling poorly for being so short with the other man. He was supposed to be ignoring it, right? With this resolve, the farmer rose to help, trying to act kind in opposition to his grumpy disposition all morning. "Yep," he replied, looking out to the admittedly beautiful Sunday morning over his land. "I was plannin' on doing a bit of hunting, the hares have been overrunning the property and I could always do with a bit of rabbit stew."

Castiel noticed the guilty look that flicked across Dean's face before the other man got up to help, his mood seemingly better. Nodding at the plan, he began doing the dishes. "Sounds fine, I could dig out a recipe." "Sure, that'll be good." Dean said, taking his red bandanna from his pocket to tie it around his neck. It would be good to get out of the house, today, he would have a chance to clear his head.

Castiel nodded. "The house needs some cleanin' done, so I'll get that done. Should only take me till dinner, I could bring you a sandwich if ya like. Where will you be huntin'?" "Down by the river bank, the little bastards seem to love it over there." Dean replied, feeling the comfort of normalcy creep into the interaction he had with Castiel, who had seemed better each day.

Castiel chuckled softly, drying the last dish to put it away. "Alright, I'll meet ya down there about noon." Nodding, Dean headed for the door, grabbing the rifle that lay propped next to the entrance. "I'll be takin' Henry," he called over his shoulder, watching Castiel smile in confirmation before heading out.

It didn't take long for the Winchester to get down to the river, and when he did finally reach the steepened end of his property, he felt less constricted then he had at the house with Henry bouncing on one side, his rifle carried on his other. "Alright boy," he said to the dog, who's ears perked up at his master's voice, "you go get em after I shoot em," he instructed, although the animal couldn't understand him. Then, suddenly to his right Dean noticed a rabbit scurry across his path, heading down the steep bank of the river. "Oh no ya don't." Dean muttered quietly, stepping with light, quick precision to follow it.

It took him a while, but soon, looking down at the steep incline of the land leading to the river, he spotted the young hare paused under a thick bush, nose twitching as it seemed to look his direction with what he could just make out were impossibly blue eyes. At the sight, Dean's mind instantly betrayed him, and he flashed back to the dream he had the night before, the lusty look in Castiel's blue eyes as he writhed under him. "Damn it!" Dean cursed out loud, shaking his head of the thoughts that served to frustrate him to no end. He came out here to clear his head, not be reminded of some twisted dream he had by a rabbit's eyes.

Eyes narrowing as the small animal moved further down the bank due to the loud sound of his curse, Dean trekked carefully down the steep land, crouching on a stable rock to aim at the spring fattened animal. "Gotchya." Dean murmured ever so softly, finger squeezing the trigger on the light rifle. However, instead of firing to kill the small animal for a meal, the gun clicked without firing, scaring the rabbit away for good into thick, impenetrable brush.

Sighing in frustration once more, Dean began to undo the chamber to check the problem when suddenly, without warning as he opened the weapon, the misfired bullet exploded in the chamber, throwing Dean off his balance. Letting out a shout of surprise and pain as gun powder burned his jaw, the farmer lost his footing and dropped the rifle in his panic, trying to grab at anything around him to break his fall.

However, with nothing within reach but slick grass, Dean tumbled down the hill quickly, falling to the bottom with a cry of anguish as a sharp pain wrenched through his shoulder. Black spots dotting his vision from the immense pain and lack of breath from the wind being knocked from him, Dean glanced over to his shoulder to see the source of the pain, passing out instantly at the gruesome sight. There, impaled through the back of his shoulder clean through to the front, stood a thick, sharp tree branch, which had been sticking from the ground where he landed.

Castiel had just finished making cold chicken sandwiches when he heard the familiar crack of gunfire. Cocking his head after a moment, as the shot had sounded a bit strange, the blue-eyed man shrugged and headed out the door, walking slowly to the river, which he hadn't been to since the day of his breakdown. But no matter, he would be fine, he had already reasoned enough with his guilt to keep it at bay.

Approaching the spot Dean had said he would be, Castiel's eyebrows drew together in confusion as he didn't see the farmer anywhere, the only sign he was even around being Henry barking frantically at the bank.

"Did you guys get something, buddy?" Castiel asked, walking up to look down on the bank where Henry hadn't torn his gaze from. Stomach instantly sinking, he realized he couldn't have been more wrong. Gaze traveling to the bottom of the steep bank, Castiel sucked in a sharp, panicked breath at the limp form of Dean splayed out, a large piece of wood jabbed through him where his shoulder met his body. Sandwiches dropping from his hand, Castiel put a hand to his mouth in utter shock, the sight causing him to stop in fear for just a moment. "Dean," he whispered in denial, feet carrying him as carefully and quickly as they could down the bank.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would like to dedicate this chapter to my best friend, Joey (who can be found here: http://jofrow.tumblr.com/)). He has helped me with many elements of this chapter, including how Dean got distracted on the river bank. So, I would like to take this space of end notes to thank him, because he is a wonderful beta reader and someone who helped me get this chapter written. :)


	8. Struggle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ******TRIGGER/CONTENT WARNING****** This chapter contains graphic, detailed descriptions of physical wounds, sickness, pain, and blood.

It didn't take Castiel long to reach Dean, even with the obstacle of the immensely steep bank. Somehow, he reached the farmer unscathed, shock stilling him for a moment as he looked upon the gruesome injury. Blood dripped stickily down the sharp wood, heading back to its origin of the Winchester's shoulder with a sickly slow pace. "Oh, god..." Castiel whispered, hand flying to his mouth as he felt a lurch of sickness take him, the contents of his breakfast nearly making a second appearance.

Pushing down the nausea that threatened to overwhelm him, the blue-eyed man took a few deep breaths, bringing his shaking hands to Dean's face, tapping his cheeks lightly to try and wake him. "Dean?" He asked, swallowing his fear in order to provide the obviously needed care. "Dean, wake up," he commanded, louder this time as he lightly slapped the other man's face.

Gasping, Dean woke, lurching upwards for a moment before he fell back against the muddy bank with a shout of anguish. "Hey, hey, stay still." Castiel said quickly, splaying his palm at Dean's sternum to keep him still and unmoving. "We're gonna get you outta here, alright? But I need you to stay calm, don't look where it hurts."

Dean swallowed, feeling a cold sweat break over his skin as waves of pain overwhelmed him. "What's... What happened?" He gasped out, barely coherent as he became unable to keep himself from glancing over to his shoulder. Not even having time to utter a curse at the sickening sight, Dean gagged once, the movement overwhelming him with more pain before he turned his head from his damaged shoulder to vomit.

Castiel watched the scene before him transpire quickly, wanting to be sick all the more at the sight. Closing his eyes, he took another breath and focused his mind, his hands flying to undo the bandanna at his neck. "Dean, I need you to look up at the sky, alright? Don't move," he commanded, voice shaking along with his hands. Dean swallowed, stomach acid burning at his throat as he followed Cas' instructions in a haze, eyes fixed on a cloud above in compliance.

Thankfully, the farmer did as he was told, green eyes fixed on the sky with a look of sheer and utter pain. "Stay still, I've got you." Castiel reassured, wiping at the vomit covered side of Dean's cheek with his bandanna before he set about addressing the real issue. Taking another deep breath, he shifted his attention to the branch impaled through his friend's shoulder, mind racing to try and figure a way to fix the situation. It sickened him further to think about, but he had to do it, would have to lift the farmer off the branch. Feeling himself pale at the realization, he stilled his shaking hands and tapped Dean's cheek again to focus him.

"I have 'ta get you off of here." Castiel explained calmly. "Just breathe," he continued, positioning one arm under Dean's torso, the other around most of his back to brace him, sticky, viscous blood coating his fingers near the wound, "this'll hurt."

Dean felt panic well in him at what Castiel was about to do and tried to cry out, tried to tell him not to simply out of his own fear, but couldn't find words in his pain-addled state. Not that it would have mattered, anyway, because in a split second, the farmer felt white hot pain wrench through his shoulder once more as his body was lifted from the damp ground, the sensation alone causing a blood curdling scream to tear its way from his throat.

Castiel cringed at the sound of anguish that Dean made as he was lifted off the branch and almost stopped before he forced himself to continue the task. It wasn't easy, for the stump was gnarled in most places, causing it to catch more than once on bits of muscle and bone in Dean's body. But finally, after what seemed like an age, Castiel had Dean freed and set him gently on the ground, thankful the other man had passed out once more.

However, this relief didn't last long, for it was soon overcome by another worry when, to Castiel's horror, blood began seeping onto the ground around Dean. "Oh god..." Castiel breathed once more, eyes wide with terror as he watched the crimson liquid soak into the light cotton shirt Dean had chosen that day.

He didn't know what to do, and in this helpless thought, clenched his shaking hands into fists, trying to hold onto anything to keep him from panicking. Then, through his slightly swimming vision, a memory hit him, far more vivid than any he had before.

" _Come on, Castiel, hurry!" His father commanded, pressing his hands against the horse's bleeding, broken leg. Castiel rushed forward, holding a piece of cloth out in the only way he could help at his young age._  " _We've got to stop the bleeding," his father explained with a hurried calm, wrapping the makeshift tourniquet around the horse's flank._

Snapping from the quick memory, Castiel looked to Dean's profusely bleeding shoulder and instantly reacted. Without a second thought, he stripped off his own shirt, wrapping it tightly under Dean's armpit and around his collarbone, tying it tightly around the wound, the bleeding instantly slowing with the effort.

Breathing a sigh of relief at the successful action, Castiel checked to ensure Dean still drew breath before turning his gaze up the steep bank, thoughts rapid. He couldn't possibly bring one of the horses down, it would be too risky with the incline, and tying a rope against one of the trees posed more threats than he could count. Setting his jaw, he turned to Dean and made a quick decision, placing his one arm under the farmer's knees, the other wrapping around his shoulders to gather him up from the ground.

Castiel was never one to be prideful, but he was strong and could hold his own in situations requiring physical exertion. However, lifting both himself and Dean out of the steep incline posed far more difficulty than he had ever experienced before, and if it hadn't been for the countering weight of Dean at his front, Castiel knew he would have fallen backwards.

Fifteen long, worry filled, grueling minutes later, Castiel finally reached the top of the hill, setting Dean on the ground as he pulled himself fully up onto the blessedly flat land. Resting and catching his breath for but a minute, he stood once more, stomach sinking when he saw his shirt, the makeshift tourniquet, saturated with blood around Dean's shoulder. Quickly picking the farmer back up, Castiel gently pushed Henry away from his side, ignoring the whining dog as he practically ran to the house.

Dean barely remembered what happened, and was barely coherent due to the blood loss, but he knew he was hurt as he faded in and out of consciousness. One moment, he was looking up at the sky, his body feeling ready to drop at a steep incline as strong arms wrapped around him. The next, he was lying again on moist earth, Henry whining by his side, wet nose nudging at his cheek. Finally, he opened his eyes, finding himself lying in bed, the pain in his shoulder worse than ever before, causing him to snap awake with another soft cry of pain.

"I'm just wrappin' another cloth around your shoulder." He heard Castiel say before another wave of anguish washed over him as the tourniquet was pulled tight. "What happened?" He found himself asking, words strangely slurred as he looked upon his employee, who was standing over him, obviously concerned. "You fell." Castiel answered shortly, knowing he had to get information before Dean passed out once more. "I need you to tell me if there's a doctor in town."

Dean thought for a moment, his mind fuzzy as he struggled to answer the question. "Yeah, he uh, does house calls," he answered, the slurred words barely exiting his lips before he fell back into darkness. "Damn it!" Castiel cursed, the worry and stress nearly overwhelming him at Dean's answer. House calls, he said, which meant there was no office in town. Knowing now he had to act far faster than before in order to get the doctor back to the farm, Castiel tied another cloth over the first on Dean's shoulder for good measure before he bolted to his room, throwing on a shirt and only half buttoning it in his haste to get out.

As soon as he could, with one last glance in at Dean's passed out form, he was running to the barn, saddling up one of the horses quickly. Town was nearly an hour's ride away, and he didn't know if Dean had that long. No matter, if he pushed the horse, he could make it in half an hour.

With this resolve, thick blood drying on his hands, shirt barely covering his torso, Castiel kicked his heels into the animal's side with a shout, starling the usually calm animal into an instant gallop. Eyes focused before him as he tore away from the property, Castiel set his jaw, willing the helpless thoughts away from him. First Kate, now Dean, it all seemed so unfair, that one after another the people around him he had bonded with were leaving. It was true, Dean was still alive, but for how long, he didn't know, didn't want to think about. What had the farmer done to deserve this, anyway? All he had ever done was be kind and accepting, warm and accommodating, and now he was closing in on an early death.

Pushing away the lump in his throat as the town came into his sight, Castiel urged the horse, which he had now identified as Dan, faster on, dust picking up behind them. Thankfully, they reached town not soon after, and before the animal had even come to a complete stop, Castiel jumped off, tying off the reigns with shaking hands.

"Where's the doctor?" The blue-eyed man demanded, not caring how utterly insane he must look as he burst into the nearest store. The startled clerk looked up, and seeing the rush the unknown man was in, shook his head quickly. "He's not in town today, he's at home." "Where?" Castiel repeated, fists clenched in order to keep himself from yelling in his panic and rush to get help. "About half a mile east." The man replied, stepping back when he saw the blood coating Castiel's balled hands.

Without a response to the paling man behind the counter, Castiel turned and ran back to Dan, mounting the horse quickly to urge it once more to a full gallop. Half a mile, fifteen more minutes, plus the time it would take for the doctor to saddle up his own horse, it was too much, too long for Dean to wait. But what else could he do? With a resolve unmatched to even the one he had held when his wagon broke, Castiel kicked his heels against Dan's flanks in an attempt to get the animal to move faster, determination flooding through his veins: he would not let Dean Winchester die.

Again, he arrived at his destination faster than expected, and just as Dan came to a halt in front of the humble cabin housing the lifesaving doctor, Castiel was shouting. "I need help!" He called, feet already breaking into a run up to the door, bloody fist pounding on the barrier without a thought to politeness or control of himself. All that mattered now was Dean, and in his current panic, Castiel didn't question why he cared so much.

"What happened?" The doctor asked, appearing at the door with his bag already in hand, sadly recognizing the panicked tone of the unknown man's voice. "He's fallen onto a tree branch, it went through his shoulder and he's bleeding, bad. I've got it wrapped up but I don't know how long he has." Castiel gasped, not thinking about how the doctor didn't know who he was talking about as his lack of breath finally caught up to him.

The doctor's face remained neutral, and he instantly rushed out to get his horse, coming back not five minutes later, saddled up. "How far out are you?" He asked, rushed in his words as he swung himself up onto his horse. Castiel got back into the saddle himself, already ready to go. "About a mile and a half," he responded, watching in dismay as the doctor's face paled. "Let's get going, then. Hurry, now." The doctor responded, worried they wouldn't get there in time to stop the injured man from bleeding out.

Castiel nodded, kicking his heels another time into Dan's flanks to set him off in another full gallop. "Please hold on." He found himself murmuring under his panting breath.


	9. Nausea

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ******TRIGGER/CONTENT WARNING****** This chapter contains graphic, detailed descriptions of physical wounds, sickness, pain, blood, and medical care. This chapter is **especially** graphic, read at your own risk.

The ride back to the farm took a little more than an hour for the two men, due to Castiel's horse tiring out. He tried his best to urge the normally docile animal faster throughout the ride but there was only so much Dan could take before his gallop slowed, increasing their time away from Dean. Frustration and worry welling in him, Castiel didn't think or bother to bring his horse to a stall for water, and instead hastily tied him to the porch, rushing into the house with the doctor not far behind.

"Dean?" He called, despite the likely chance the farmer couldn't hear him as his feet automatically guided him to the back room. "Dean, I've got the doct-" he continued, words dying in his throat as his eyes fell upon Dean's pale, limp form on the bed, blue lips drawing rapid, shallow breath.

The doctor was right behind Castiel when his words halted, and instantly, with one glance, he knew what was wrong with the suffering man on the bed. "He's going into shock," he said quickly, walking forward to feel for a pulse. "I need you to hold his feet up off the bed, don't let them drop."

It took a moment, but soon Castiel found himself moving forward, following the order in a hazy, shocked state of his own as he grabbed for Dean's boots to hold them up off the blankets.

"What's his name?" The doctor asked, opening Dean's mouth to check for any vomit or saliva that may have been choking him. Castiel watched helplessly as the doctor, whom he didn't even have a name for yet, worked. "Dean," he replied, the farmer's name almost breaking when it came from his lips. The doctor nodded and began to remove the tourniquets banded around Dean's shoulder, discarding the bloody rags to the side as he began cutting away the farmer's shirt.

"Dean, I need you to focus on my voice." The older man commanded, taking Dean's good arm out of one of the shirt sleeves before he moved to the other side, not daring to attempt to move the damaged arm. "Breath slowly and deeply," he continued, cutting away the sleeve near the farmer's wound to leave only a small, ripped patch over the torn, bleeding flesh on his shoulder.

Castiel watched in horror as the doctor finished cutting away Dean's shirt, leaving his pale chest bare save for the ripped material still covering the wound. Watching worriedly, he soon had to turn to avoid being sick as the shirt was peeled away from the puncture site, taking with it stringy clots of blood and what he could only assume were bits of muscle.

Dean moaned softly at the pain, still drifting on the fine line between being awake and unconscious, still confused about what was happening. However, he was just coherent enough to follow the unknown man's orders, breathing slowly and deeply, despite the way the action hurt his shoulder. Soon, he gained a handle on his surroundings, his heart beginning to pick up pace as he blearily looked around to see Castiel at the foot of his bed, looking helpless.

"Good, he's comin' back around." The doctor said, discarding the last bit of blood-sticky shirt off to the side. "You can rest his legs back down.". Castiel did as he was told once again, standing awkwardly and helplessly as he awaited another order from the doctor, who was currently uncapping a flask.

"You said it was a tree branch he fell on?" Castiel nodded, watching carefully as the man leaned forward for a closer look at the torn flesh. "There's bits of bark in there that have to come out before I can go any further. I can flush most of 'em out with the whiskey," the doctor explained, gesturing to the flask in hand, "but some are stuck right in the muscle, I'm gonna have to pluck 'em out."

Paling, Castiel swallowed the rising bile in his throat. "There's nothin' you can do to help with the pain?" The doctor shook his head gravely. "I'm afraid not. You'll have 'ta come over here and hold him down. Put one hand on his good shoulder and one on his chest. Don't worry about pressin' too hard, he hasn't broken anything else." Castiel felt himself pale at the phrase 'hold him down', but followed the instructions, pressing Dean tightly onto the bed.

"Wait, no, don't-" Dean began to protest as the doctor tipped the flask, not having much time for any sort of slurred denial before a scream ripped from his chest, the liquid sliding over and through the puncture now seperating his ball and socket joint, causing pain to flood his every sense.

Castiel felt panicked tears sting at the back of his eyes at the scream and held Dean's writhing, surprisingly strong form still as he could on the bed, although he wished he could run out of the room and never return to the nightmare.

"Now, don't worry if he passes out in these next couple of steps, it's natural with the amount of pain." The doctor reassured, retrieving tweezers from his bag. "Is it a lot? The wood pieces?" Castiel found himself asking, still holding Dean down despite how limp he ha d gone, fatigued from the immense anguish he was going through. Shaking his head, the life-saving man wiped at the instrument in hand with a dry cloth. "It's only about three pieces, from what I can see. After I remove 'em, which shouldn't take long, I'll reach in for a bit to figure the damage, and then cauterize off the bleeding." Castiel nearly passed out at the mere description of the procedure but nodded, adjusting his grip on Dean before the doctor began to remove the bits of wood.

Again, the farmer writhed in pain, back arching as much as it could from the bed during the thankfully quick process. However, before he had time to relax from the large splinters being pulled from his muscle, the doctor wet his fingers in whiskey and prodded into the puncture, feeling around for mere seconds in order to access the severity and breakage of cartilage and bone.

Cringing as Dean's scream sounded once more in the room, Castiel pressed back any emotion he may have and held his friend down to the bed with so much force he was sure there would be bruises left on the farmer's still pale skin.

Then, to his surprise, Dean fell still under his grip, gaze meeting his own as tears slipped from his green eyes. "Cas..." Dean whimpered in a plea, too weak to do anything but lay on the bed in anguish, his vision swimming. "Please, make it stop." Then, without another word, he slipped back into the dark, unconscious.

Castiel felt tears finally well in his eyes at Dean's broken tone, at the easy nickname he hadn't used ever since their argument. But as the doctor stood and wiped off his now bloody hand, he blinked away the emotion and straightened as well.

"I'll need something metal, heated up, it has to be small enough to fit in the wound so I can seal off the veins." Castiel nodded numbly, turning to walk to the kitchen. He couldn't think, not now, he just had to keep going, keep functioning until everything was done. Then and only then, could he rest. With this mindset, he started a large fire in the stove and began to hunt for anything to use for the cauterization process. It took a while to find something the right size, but soon Castiel pulled out a pan, the handle the perfect size to use. Wrapping a towel around the opposite end of the skillet, he placed the long handle into the fire roaring in the stove's belly, shoulders slumping under stress as he waited.

As he kneeled in front of the stove, Castiel looked down to the pan once more, recognition flooding his mind: it was pan he had used on his first morning at the farm, the pan from which he had scraped his failed pancakes. Fresh tears springing to his eyes at the sudden memory, he watched for the telltale sign of redness in the handle and thought back.

Dean had been so kind, that first morning. Even with the cabin filling with smoke under the failure of his breakfast, he still had acted quickly and helped finish the meal preparation. At the time, Castiel remembered, he had been humiliated at his lack of skill and competence and wanted nothing more than to run out and never come back as the farmer cleaned up his mess. However, in the short two weeks he had already spent getting to know Dean, Castiel now was grateful for the help, realizing his employer was a good, kind man and would never mock him or humiliate him, and was only truly trying to help. Which, Castiel thought as he removed the now glowing metal, was why this was all so unfair. Dean didn't deserve any of this.

Pressing back his now present sadness, the blue-eyed man re-entered the room, the iron tainted scent of blood hitting him instantly. "This'll be a quick process, now that he's passed out." The doctor explained, relieving Castiel of the small skillet. "I need to get his back first, so I need you to roll him over on his side and hold him like that for a minute." Castiel found himself nodding once more and made his way over to Dean, turning him over gently to rest on his good shoulder.

"Don't let go, no matter how much ya want to." The doctor warned, bringing the pan close to the entrance of the injury. "I don't want to have him burnt further than necessary." Castiel could do nothing, it seemed, but nod, all words gone from his lips as the doctor began the process, pressing the searing handle against Dean's flesh.

It sounded, in short, like chicken fat frying away over a stove, popping with high pitched searing sounds. However, despite the familiar sound, nothing could have prepared Castiel for the smell. Instantly filling the room and invading his olfactory senses, he could almost  _taste_  the horrifyingly sweet aroma. At first, it reminded him closely of badly burnt beef which, for a split second, wasn't as terrible as he would have imagined. But then, instantaneously, the smell was permeated by a sickly sweet odor, one that could only be described as the scent of burning iron, sugar, and charcoal.

Tongue flying to the roof of his mouth to suppress a gag that surely would have caused him to be sick, Castiel turned his gaze away and focused on the wall until the doctor told him he could set Dean down. Complying, he gently laid his friend back to rest against the bed, the doctor wasting no time as he set the still-hot metal against the front of the farmer's wound. Stronger this time, more potent, the smell returned, and after everything he had endured that day, Castiel couldn't hold back any longer. Turning as a wave of sickness washed over him, the blue-eyed man was barely able to stumble over to Dean's wash basin before he vomited, emptying the contents of his stomach in shuddering wretches as the horrendous smell continued to overcome him.

He didn't know how long he was kneeling on the ground for, head resting against the wall as he caught his breath, but soon Castiel felt a strong hand close around his arm, tugging him up gently to lead him from the room. He followed without a word, and in a haze brought on by dehydration, shock, and sickness, sat in one of the kitchen chairs, vaguely registering it was Dean's.

The doctor rummaged around in the kitchen for a moment, unnoticed to Castiel even as he exited out the back door for a moment. "Sip this." He instructed gently once he returned, setting a full glass of water in front of the blue-eyed man. Castiel, as he had done all day, complied and drank a bit of the water, looking up to the now doctor, who sat across from him. "How is he?" He found himself asking without much forethought.

The doctor looked towards the back of the house in thought for a moment before answering. "He's alive, and pretty stable for what he's been through. I've got him bandaged and cleaned up as best I can." Castiel found his stomach sinking, and became alert one more. "What's the damage?" "From what I felt, the branch pretty much destroyed the joint connecting his shoulder and arm, along with the ligament that allows him to lift his arm." Looking to Castiel in order to ensure he was getting the information, the doctor folded his hands in his lap solemnly. "The only thing holding his arm to his side is skin and a very small amount of muscle. His ball and socket joint has been completely separated."

Sucking in a sharp breath, Castiel felt his hand fly to his mouth as he tried, subconsciously, to conceal his emotion. "Oh god," he murmured, swallowing around his dry throat. "Will he get better?" "I'll do everything I can to help him heal," the doctor answered, "but I don't think he'll be able to use much of that arm anymore."

Castiel nodded, letting the information sink in as he took another larger drink of the water he had been provided. He would work with that, just as long as Dean was alive and healthy. It seemed, at the moment, it was all he could think about, all he could hold onto in order to keep going. He would be there for Dean, he decided, would help him, would keep the farm running until he was better. He would provide Dean with the same kind care he had needed previously, he would repay every kindness the farmer had given him, he would give his friend everything he deserved.

Looking back up, Castiel studied the doctor for a moment, realizing he hadn't even asked the man his name. Wiping his slightly bloody hand on his half-buttoned shirt, he extended it to shake. "I didn't even get a name for you," he said apologetically.  The doctor smiled ever so slightly, understanding flooding his kind eyes as he shook Castiel's hand firmly. "Bobby. Bobby Singer."


	10. Helpless

Castiel sat in silence for a long while, images of the horrors he just witnessed flashing through his mind as he slowly sipped at the water Bobby had provided for him. Bobby didn't say anything while Castiel sat and collected himself, for he knew from experience how these things had a way of shocking someone.

But soon, the water gone from the other man's glass, he cleared his throat. "Do you have a barn I could put my horse in for a while? I'd like to stay and make sure there are no complications when he wakes up." Castiel looked up at Bobby's words and nodded, standing on rubbery legs. "I'll go tend to 'em," he answered hollowly, the shock of everything melting away to leave him barren and wounded. The doctor gave Castiel a short smile in thanks, watching as the blue-eyed man paused at the door, hand hovering over the empty hat rack nearby before dropping his arm, exiting swiftly and quietly.

Castiel went out to find Dan laid down, still tied to the post next to Bobby's horse, tired and sweat flecked. "C'mon, let's get you some water," he murmured, patting the animal's neck as he untied both the horse's reigns to lead them towards the barn.

It didn't take long for the trio to reach the barn and when they did, both horses went immediately for water. Feeling pity for Dan, as he had pushed the horse hard that day, Castiel pitched hay into his stall and set about unsaddling each of them, mind lost in a haze with the mundane task that was finished all too soon, forcing his thoughts back to Dean. He had asked him to make it stop, and there was no way he could help, all he could do was watch as the farmer's flesh was burned shut.

Feeling a lurch of fresh sickness wash over him, Castiel set the two saddles on nearby pegs and leaned against the wall, clenching his fists to stave off the panic he felt building within him. Everything that had happened, the emotion he was experiencing, it was all so reminiscent of what he had gone through two weeks ago and was still going through. Except now, instead of simply having the lonely hole in his heart carved out from his wife's early passing, he had a worried, helpless pit in his stomach over one Dean Winchester, the two unfathomably horrible feelings now combining to rest heavily on his shoulders.

Sighing shakily, Castiel brought a hand up to rub at his tearing eyes but instantly stopped the motion at the unwelcome sight of his crimson stained fingers. "Don't leave me alone again," he whispered aloud to no one in particular, his feet carrying him automatically to the old pump just outside the barn.

Washing away blood was far more difficult than Castiel ever expected and due to the dried state of the sickening, previously viscous liquid, causing it to take more than one run under the water to get it all off. Once his hands were clean, Castiel cupped water in his hands and splashed it over his weary features, properly buttoning his shirt as his eyes scanned the field that lay just beyond the east wall of the barn. Suddenly remembering the silent promise he had made to himself not twenty minutes before when he'd heard the extent of Dean's injuries, he began to head over to the rather large field, squatting at its edge in curiosity.

Rubbing the freshly turned soil between his thumb and forefinger, Castiel let his eyes study the barely there flecks of green in the damp earth, hopelessness crowding in on him once again, the feeling now an all too familiar one. He didn't know a single thing about farming. He knew it was hard labor, and that it took a skilled hands to coax certain crops from the earth, but beyond his knowledge of the difficulties, he was completely lost. He tried to think of anything to help him along, any facts or memories, but could produce nothing of great help from his childhood of growing up on a ranch.

Letting out a wavering breath at the daunting task before him, Castiel looked out upon the field once more and let his mind wander back to remember how difficult farming proved to be.

* * *

" _Somethin' smells good." Dean commented, hanging his hat on the peg to his left. Castiel turned, nodding. "I decided to try my hand at a soup recipe I found in that stack of cards," he answered, spoon prodding at a still-firm carrot in slight frustration._

 _Sitting heavily in his chair, Dean ran a hand over his weary face and gave Castiel a small smile as he set the table._  " _You tired?" Castiel found himself asking to fill the silence as he served up the rather thin looking meal. Dean cleared his throat and gave a grateful nod at the food set in front of him, stirring the vegetable filled dish so it could cool. "Yeah," he responded, relaxing into the chair. "I spent all day turning and sewin' the ground, which wouldn't have been bad if Buck wasn't bein' so ornery."_  .

 _Castiel listened as he took a spoonful of the soup, finding it wasn't half bad, if a little bland. "Do you think it'll be a good year, though?"_ " _Yeah," Dean responded once more, taking a bite with a satisfied grin, "it should be great, I'm lookin' forward to having a little spending money for the two of us come winter."_

_Castiel looked up in surprise, his eyebrows coming together slightly in confusion. "Why would I spend your money?" Raising a spoonful of his soup to blow on it, Dean chuckled. "You're workin' to run this farm, too. I would never be able to have this big a crop if I still had to care for the animals, the house and the cooking."_

_Castiel didn't respond immediately, feeling a bit foolish having Dean explain it to him. "Well, thank ya, then. It's nice workin' here," he said after a moment, eyes trained on his half gone soup._ _Dean found himself smiling at Castiel although he wasn't looking at him. "I'm glad you think so," he responded, clearing his throat in the silence that followed as they finished their meals._

" _Would you be wantin' any more?" Castiel asked as he stood, spoon resting in his empty bowl. Dean shook his head, rising as well to clear his dish. Sometimes Castiel would clear for him, but it didn't feel right sitting back every day to watch the other man tend to him. "No, I think I might just head off to bed. You can put the leftovers in the root cellar, they'll stay cool there till tomorrow so you won't have to cook supper."_ _Castiel nodded, already set about washing his dish as Dean placed his in the soapy water._

" _That was delicious, thank ya," Dean complimented over his shoulder as he was exiting the room tiredly. "You have a good night." Castiel felt his face warm with the sudden compliment over his mediocre cooking and ducked his head to focus on the dishes. "Good night," he responded, not thinking much of his strange reaction; he just wasn't used to compliments from the other man yet._

* * *

Shaking himself from his memories, Castiel dusted off his hands and stood, the task seeming difficult in itself due to the combined weight of loneliness, grief, and hopelessness upon his slumped shoulders. However, despite this, he found his feet leading him back to the barn. He may not have any knowledge in farming but he still knew what needed to be done until he could tend to everything else. Entering the slightly cooler space that smelled of sweet hay and earthy manure, the blue-eyed man crossed to Sunshine's pen and clicked his tongue, a slight smile coming to his lips as the docile bovine stood and ambled over to the gate, which Castiel opened to lead her out to the fields.

"I know you're used to takin' this walk with Dean." Castiel explained, unsure of why he was even bothering to talk to an animal as he placed a hand on Sunshine's neck to lead her along the path. "But he's gonna have to rest for a while, so you've just gotta manage with me." The cow, of course, didn't respond, but simply looked to Castiel with shiny black eyes before wandering off to her usual grazing spot, the bell around her neck jingling slightly with every step.

Feeling slightly more relaxed than his previous state in which he felt ready to break down with every movement, Castiel walked in long strides back towards the house, hoping he hadn't been gone for too long as to disrupt Bobby's schedule.

"Dr. Singer?" He called, stepping into the house as he let his eyes adjust, almost removing his hat to place it on the peg before he remembered he'd dropped it down by the water near Dean's. Bobby stepped from the back room, shutting the door halfway before he approached Castiel. "He's awake."

Castiel felt his heart rate surge at this, millions of questions running through his mind as to the state of the Winchester's health and well-being. However, he found Bobby already speaking, and tuned back into reality to properly listen.

"I've told him how bad it is, and his head's clear enough to understand it. He's in a lot of pain, though, so prepare yourself to see that." Castiel nodded, feeling his stomach clench back up at Bobby mentioning the amount of anguish Dean was under.

"I've opened his window to air out the smell, so just remember to close it before nightfall, adding a fever from the cold wouldn't serve him well right now. I don't want him moving around too much, definitely no walkin' yet, the arm has to keep completely still.".

Castiel felt sick at the mention of 'the smell', but pushed the feeling down, determined not to lose anything else he may still have in his stomach. "You'll be back soon, though?" He asked. It sounded worried, almost needy to his ears, but he didn't want a repeat of the frantic state he had been through earlier. Bobby looked out at the waning afternoon sun, thinking for a moment before he turned back to Castiel. "I'll be back in the next two days, at the least. I hate to leave you here without someone else to care for him, but I've got other patients waiting."

Castiel nodded calmly, although the simple two days seemed daunting with everything he had to do. "Do I have to do anythin' to care for him?" "Well, his shoulder has to be redressed every morning and night, I've left a pretty hefty roll of gauze on the dresser for ya. Dean said he's got some whiskey down in the cellar, so use that to clean the wound every time you change it. To redo the gauze, just wrap it tightly under his armpit and around his collarbone, like ya did the cloth before I got here. Everythin' else can be his choice, in the way of food and washin', but keep him drinking water.".

Castiel took in all the information slowly, dreading the pain he had to inflict upon Dean with the cleaning and redressing. "I'll do that," he answered, his answer short and clipped to hide his fear. Bobby clapped a hand on his bicep and donned his hat. "Hey, he's alive. You saved his life, boy and I'm sure you can do this too." Castiel looked up to Bobby gratefully. "Thank you", he said softly, watching the older man exit the house, leaving him alone in the quiet house.

Dean licked his dry lips, reaching his good arm out slowly to grab the water on his night table, taking a small sip just as he saw the door open, revealing a tired looking Castiel. Smiling weakly, he set the glass back in its original position and settled back. "Howdy," he greeted hoarsely.

Castiel nearly rushed forward, but stopped himself, walking into the thankfully light, airy room, the smell barely lingering under the breeze coming through the window. "Howdy," he replied, walking calmly over to Dean's bedside despite his shaky legs. Dean cleared his throat, wincing in pain as he did so. "Don't look so worried, I've got my senses about me now.".

Castiel smiled slightly despite the weak sight of Dean, who laid in bed with a blanket over his pale, bare torso, his gauze-wrapped shoulder left uncovered. "That's good to hear," he answered after a moment, dragging a chair over to the side of Dean's bed. Dean nodded, swallowing around his scream-ragged throat. "Are you okay?" Castiel looked up, surprised at the question. "Me? Dean, you're the one," he paused, eyes flicking over to the farmer's shoulder, "all banged up, not me. I'm fine."

"Yeah," Dean responded, hesitating as he still wasn't sure how affected Castiel was by the whole thing, since he was still dealing with his wife's death, "but what you did... I can't thank ya properly." He shook his head, shutting his eyes tightly in pain for a moment before he put on a neutral expression, as to not worry his friend. "I don't know how you managed to get me out of that jam."

Castiel nearly reached his hand forward to place it on Dean's forearm at his wince of pain but controlled himself, knowing how odd it would seem. It was odd, in fact, how attached he had become to the farmer in this short time. "You needed help, I just did what I could," he replied humbly.

Dean gave Castiel another smile, feeling gratefulness well in his chest for the man sitting before him, the man who had saved his life. Being so close to death, Dean had often been strangely submerged in his thoughts. Mostly, they were bits and pieces of strange memories from his life, all disconnected and unrelated as in a strange dream. But, there had also been thoughts of Castiel. Somehow, although he had known the other for a very short amount of time, it was Castiel who he thought of, who quelled the fear when he registered vaguely that he could be dying.

It was unnatural, yes, and there was probably something wrong with his mind, but finding himself so close to death had let his true feelings come forward, and in the darkness, he realized he'd like nothing more than to be closer to Castiel. Not immediately, of course, but eventually. It was a horrible thought to finally accept, liking another man this much, but with how sure he had been of his death, Dean concluded there were much worse things. However, with his acceptance of the feelings he held for Castiel also came another sort of acceptance, a saddening one that told him what he already knew: no matter how much he welcomed the still disturbing fact that he liked Castiel more than was natural, his feelings would never be returned.

"Well, still, thank ya. I don't know if I would have survived if you weren't there, Cas-" he answered, clearing his throat of the nickname he knew the other man didn't like, "Castiel." Castiel gave Dean a short, almost sad smile, relief flooding through him at the nickname that, thankfully this time, wasn't filled with pleading anguish. "Cas is fine."


	11. Trick

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Important note for this chapter: Back in the 1800's, $1.00 would be equivalent to $28.00 today.

Castiel stood outside of Dean's bedroom the following morning, whiskey bottle in hand. "Dean?" He called, knocking on the slightly ajar door. "Yeah, come in." Dean replied, voice still raw and scratchy from the day before.

At the permission, Castiel pushed open the door and took a breath to steady himself for what was to come. "Didn't get much sleep last night?" He asked after a moment, breaking the heavy silence of the room as he grabbed the gauze on Dean's dresser. Dean shook his head, wincing slightly. "It just wouldn't come, cause of the pain I guess."

Castiel looked to Dean in sympathy, eyes lingering over his shoulder in dread as he clenched the two items in his hands tightly. "Dr. Singer said I'd have to clean and re-bandage twice a day," he explained, going to stand on the farmer's injured side. Dean nodded, trying to put on a brave face despite the sinking feeling he got at the words. "I guess we should get it over with." "Yeah, I guess." Castiel responded, setting the gauze and bottle of alcohol on the bed next to Dean while he moved to his bandages.

"This'll hurt," he warned, repeating his words from the previous day. At Dean's second nod of acknowledgment, he swallowed around his dry throat and began to unwrap the thick gauze, every circle he made revealing a darker patch of mostly dried blood. Dean tensed up at the action and turned his head, not wanting to watch as another jolt of pain ran through him, causing his body to flinch.

"You've gotta stay still." Castiel reminded quickly, concerned over the healing of his friend's arm. At Dean's hum of confirmation, he took away the last concealing layer of bandage, forcing himself to keep his face neutral as to not worry the farmer.

It was worse than he'd expected. He'd known the extent of the injury, seeing it the day before but now, looking down upon the freshly burnt wound, he nearly succumbed to sickness. All around the wound, the flesh was red and inflamed, almost raw looking, which he had anticipated. However, where the puncture had been cauterized, he'd never presumed he'd see blackened, almost flaky looking skin.

"Is it bad?" Dean asked after a moment, words short and constricted with pain. Castiel met Dean's eyes, and didn't have the heart to tell him the truth. "It's not as bad as I thought," he lied, silently commenting to himself that it was far  _worse_ than he previously thought. Dean instantly caught the deceit, but didn't say anything more, setting his jaw. "Alright, I'm ready."

"Try not to move too much, find somethin' to hold onto." Castiel prompted, tucking a small towel around Dean's shoulder so the farmer wouldn't have to lay in whiskey soaked sheets. Watching the other man wince at even the simple tucking he'd done around his shoulder, Castiel swallowed the worried nausea that was rising once more and uncorked the bottle. "This won't take long," he reassured, placing a steadying hand upon Dean's chest as he began to pour the amber liquid over the sickly looking flesh.

Dean could have waited ten years to start the procedure and it still wouldn't have been enough to prepare him for the anguish that followed. Straining not to let out an agonized scream, he gripped his good hand into the sheets around him and fought to stay still, teeth clenched so hard he was surprised his own jaw didn't break as his body flooded with pain. After a moment though, it subsided, allowing him to slump back on his pillow, heart pounding wildly.

Castiel fought the urge to squeeze his eyes shut at the heart wrenching sight and completed the task, picking up the gauze next. "We're almost done, alright?" He soothed, hoping to get the task done as quickly as possible as he wiped up the extra whiskey that had strayed to Dean's still slightly pale, bruised chest. Dean met Castiel's eyes in confirmation, trying to keep his composure as much as possible.

Giving Dean a soft look of what he hoped conveyed encouragement, Castiel turned back to the wound and ever so slowly tucked a spare pillow under the farmer's ribcage, elevating his injured shoulder just enough so he could get the bandage on. Wrapping it didn't take much, although when he finished Castiel thought secretly Bobby had done a far better job. But, it worked, and that was what matter.

"We're done, right?" Dean asked, voice strained as he opened his now tear-shining eyes, not realizing he had cried until that very moment. "Yeah." Castiel said after a moment, placing the gauze and whiskey bottle back on the night stand. "Do ya want some water, maybe breakfast?" Dean's stomach instantly turned at the thought of food, and shook his head. "Just water." Castiel gave a short nod at the answer, disappearing out the door for a moment.

Relieved he could cease holding in the deep, shuddering breath, Dean let out a choked groan of pain and relaxed fully back into the sheets, letting a few more tears slip from his eyes before he wiped at his face with his good hand. He hadn't lied when he told Castiel he hadn't had much luck getting sleep but it wasn't entirely due to the immense pain in his shoulder. No, Dean was kept awake by his own thoughts, namely thoughts of Castiel. Right when he woke, he had acknowledged his strange feelings for the other man and even began to welcome them in hopes something would come of them.

However, later that night, alone in his bed with his senses no longer dulled by recent waking, he had been disturbed by how quickly he seemed to be able to attach himself to Castiel, another man, and accept it merely because of his gratefulness to be alive. So disturbed by his easy state of mind, in fact, that he had come to a decision: he may very well be insane, letting his feelings for another man come to a head, but that didn't mean he had to dwell on his urge to act upon them. He would just ignore the longing he had discovered in him, the loneliness that he somehow wanted Castiel to quell, and it would go away. Licking his dry lips, Dean was suddenly pulled from his thoughts by Castiel returning, water in hand.

"Just drink it slowly, don't gulp it all down at once," he suggested, handing Dean the glass before sitting in the chair he hadn't moved from the side of the farmer's bed since the previous night. Dean nodded, taking a grateful sip of the water before setting it on his night stand. He cleared his throat, regretting the action when his shoulder pained, but pushed himself onto the topic he knew would be difficult to breach. "So, Dr. Singer told me the damage. Said it was pretty bad.".

Castiel snapped into focus at Dean's sudden words. "Yeah, it's not good," he confirmed solemnly, unsure of what else he would say. Dean felt a pang of shame at what he was about to say, but knew he had to deal with the cold facts of his situation. If he didn't, he would lose the farm he had barely saved. "I won't be able to work, not for a long while," he began, looking over to his bandaged shoulder. "He told me I might never be able to use this arm again." Castiel nodded, listening carefully as he watched a flash of regret filled pain color Dean's normally optimistic looking features.

Dean caught Castiel's sympathetic look and continued on, despite his embarrassment over not being able to care for his own property. "I hate to ask this of you, but I've got no other choice."

Castiel caught onto what was going to be said and cleared his throat to stop Dean's words, looking to the embarrassed man. "Dean, I'm willin' to do anything you need to keep this farm runnin', don't worry about asking too much of me there. But I've gotta be honest, I don't know the first thing about farmin'." "That's alright." The Winchester responded, motioning to his nightstand. "Could ya reach in the top drawer and hand me the bag in the bottom?"

Castiel looked curiously to the stand, turning to open the drawer. Rummaging around for a moment, he soon he spotted a small cloth satchel in the back. Removing it, he handed it to Dean, who opened it with one hand to pour the few shining coins out on the bed.

"It's not much," Dean explained, "just about four dollars I've been savin' up in case of an emergency." He let out a small, hollow sounding chuckle, wincing slightly. "I guess this qualifies as an emergency. Anyway, I know a guy who hangs out around town and he owes me a favor. Though, I wouldn't feel right havin' him come and help you out without givin' him a little pay."

Castiel nodded, brow furrowing slightly in curiosity as to who the man was. "Who is it?" He asked bluntly. "His name's Gabriel. He can be a bit of a jack ass, but all around he's a hard worker and a good man, I'm sure he wouldn't mind helpin' us out." He stopped for a moment, thinking through all the details as he counted out a dollar.

"I've already got the land turned and the seed sewn, so there's not too much difficult work to be done. I usually just wait for rain for waterin', so you don't have to worry about that. Gabriel will teach ya how to watch the crop and make sure it's growin' right, and for now he can help with the gardening and animals so you can focus on the crop and the house.".

Castiel listened carefully, taking the dollar when Dean handed it to him. "And you want me to go and get him?" "Yeah, today should be fine. He's usually hangin' around the hotel or the general store, picks up odd jobs around town. Just explain to him what I just told ya, I'm sure he'll be willing to help out.".

Castiel hesitated at the mention of having to leave Dean alone at the house, cold coins clutched tightly in his fist. Dean looked up at the silence, noticing the look of hesitation in Castiel's eye. "Hey, don't worry about me. I'm awake and have water. Besides, you'll be back in a couple hours, nothing's gonna happen." "I know, I just..." Castiel trailed off, unsure of exactly what he was planning to say. But, the farm needed to be cared for, he needed to learn and there was no way he could do it all. He needed help, desperately, and there was no other way to get it unless he left Dean. "I'll go."

"Thank ya." Dean responded after a moment, taking another sip of water. "Just give him the money up front, since he'll only be working I imagine till about mid-summer, I'm sure I'll be up and about to help with the harvest." Castiel smiled softly at Dean's returning optimism and pocketed the change as he stood, a hesitant pit still carving into his stomach. "I'll be back in a couple hours, it's still early so if he's not busy I'll bring him back with me.".

Dean nodded, shifting on the pillows with a muffled groan of pain. "Before ya go, could you bring me a wet towel? I'm feelin' a bit hot just layin' here." Castiel nodded, instantly going to dip a cloth into the cool, fresh water he had put in Dean's wash basin the night previous. "You're sure ya don't need anything else?" Dean pressed the cloth gratefully to his heated face, shaking his head. "Don't be worrying now, I'm fine, I promise," he replied with a slight smile despite a stab of pain coming once more from his shoulder.

Castiel hesitated for a moment more near Dean's side before he turned to leave, thinking in the back of his mind as he exited the cabin that he should probably retrieve their hats. Maybe later, when everything had settled back down.

When he arrived at the barn, Castiel considered saddling up Dan again, but decided against it, knowing the horse would need a rest from the previous day. Clicking his tongue, he managed to get Charlie to meander over to him to be saddled, which took a bit longer considering how temperamental the animal was being. However, despite the difficulties, he was eventually ready to ride, taking off from the property at a gallop: he didn't want to leave Dean for any more time than he had to.

It took longer, this time, to get to town, about forty-five minutes despite the pace he was going at. Dean had reassured him multiple times that he would be alright, but Castiel didn't want to leave anything to chance, especially with how close he was to losing the farmer not one day ago.

"Howdy." Castiel called, stepping into the shop he had frantically inquired about the doctor at yesterday. The clerk looked surprised to see him once more, and adopted a subconsciously protective stance before answering. "Can I help you with anything?" Castiel nodded. "I'm lookin' for a man named Gabriel."

"Gabriel? Yeah, I've got him workin' for me out back. He should be about done now, though." The man responded, eying Castiel warily. "Thank ya." Castiel answered with a slight smile, pretending not to feel the clerk's eyes boring into him as he exited the shop to head around back.

"Howdy," he greeted, approaching the shorter other. Gabriel turned, surprised at the new face. "Howdy," he responded, dusting off his hands as he finished piling up the last crate. "Can I help ya?" Castiel stepped forward and extended his hand to shake, finding it firmly met by the other man's. "I'm from Dean Winchester's farm about a mile west, he said you know him." "Dean? Yeah, of course I know him. How's he doin', anyway?" He responded with a slight smirk.

Castiel felt wary at the demeanor of the man in front of him, for he seemed slightly  _too_ immature. "I'm sorry to tell you he's not doin' good, had an accident yesterday. He's alright now, though, he just can't get outta bed or use one of his arms." Gabriel nodded, frowning at the news. "And why are you lookin' for me?"

Castiel dug the money from his pocket and held it out in his hand to show the other man. "Dean wanted me to come and offer you a job, helpin' me run the farm while he's getting better," he replied, licking at his wind chapped lips. "I don't know much about farming, so he's asked you to teach me the basics so I can work the field and the house while you tend to the animals and the garden.".

Gabriel paused for a moment, considering as he eyed the money in Castiel's hand. "Yeah, I do owe him a favor," he said eventually, pocketing the money when Castiel handed it over. "Thank you." Castiel said eventually. "I'd like to get back soon, though, he's got no one else there in case somethin' happens." "Well, let's get going then." Gabriel said with a smirk, clapping Castiel on the shoulder.

Castiel moved away from the gesture, trying to remain open and friendly as they walked around the building to get their horses. It wouldn't be long until they got back to the farm, but somehow he couldn't shake the feeling that something was going to go wrong should he be gone any longer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, I've made a trailer video for this fic. If you're interested in going to watch it, it can be found here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?feature=player_embedded&v=HoKAZHTfsKk


	12. Absence

After Castiel had explained to Gabriel his urgency to get back to the farm, they were off on a full gallop, the worry still nagging in the back of his mind. He couldn't quite place why he was so worried, as there wasn't much that could go wrong now unless Dean moved, but even through this rationalization he couldn't shake the feeling.

Luckily, he didn't have to be worried for long, as they arrived at the farm in a little under an hour. "Do ya know where the barn is?" Castiel asked, dismounting from the tired horse. Gabriel nodded, readjusting his hat. "Yeah, I'll go take care of 'em." he replied, taking the horse's reigns. He almost turned to comment about how worried the other man was, but at one glance at the concerned, almost grief filled blue eyes watching him intently, he decided against it. Castiel murmured a quick thanks as he turned and headed into the house, feet leading him back to Dean's room.

"Dean?" He called quietly, opening the door to find the farmer asleep. Worry dissipating slightly at the blessedly peaceful look on the farmer's face, Castiel headed over to the window and opened it quietly to ease the stifling air in the room. Satisfied then with the cooling breeze that came of his efforts, the blue-eyed man made his way over to the side of Dean's bed, gaze wandering over the farmer's face in an effort to spot any sign of distress. Seeing little to be worried with, he slowly removed the damp cloth from Dean's sleep relaxed fingers, his brow furrowing in concern when he felt the temperature of his friend's skin as their hands brushed.

Gently, as to not wake him, Castiel placed the back of his hand against Dean's sweat damp brow, finding the skin hotter than what it should have been. Worry coming back full force, Castiel turned to the wash basin and dipped the towel in fresh, cool water, taking a seat once more beside Dean's bed. He hoped not to wake the other man, and went about his task slowly, pressing the damp cloth to Dean's cheeks and forehead gently to cool his fever.

"It's alright, I'll take care of ya." Castiel reassured, his voice barely audible as he rested the folded cloth against Dean's forehead. Watching the farmer's face carefully, he saw a line of discomfort leave Dean's brow to make way for total peace as he shifted ever so slightly in sleep.

Curious to see if the fever had cooled, Castiel pressed the pads of his fingers against Dean's stubble flecked cheek, relief flooding through him at the once again cool skin. Then, as he was pulling his hand away, his eye caught on a spare drop of water slowly trailing down Dean's face from the towel above. Not wanting this tickling sensation to wake the thankfully sleeping farmer, Castiel found himself brush his fingers along Dean's cheekbone, wiping away the drop of moisture. However, this time, instead of relief he felt at the coolness of Dean's skin, he felt something else rush through him, a soft sensation that began at his resting fingertips and dove straight into his chest.

Puzzled and slightly disturbed by the feeling he knew, he drew his hand back as if he had been burnt, staring at his own fingertips in shock. That feeling, he knew it all too well, had felt it far too many times when he looked over to Kate in their short time together. Except now, instead of allowing the feeling to overcome him in pleasant bliss, he pressed it away, guilt twisting at his stomach. That feeling, the nearly electric sensation at the tips of his fingers, that had been adoration, fondness, happiness, hope, relief, and joy; that had been love.

Shaking his head quickly, as if he could deny the knowledge he had stumbled upon due to his own reaction, Castiel placed his head in his hands and took a few still quiet, deep breaths, trying to push the thoughts of Dean, of Kate even, from his mind. He just needed to be alone and stop this whole thing at its core, figure out why on earth he was feeling anything further than slight friendship for Dean.

"No, damn it, no." Castiel whispered to himself, clenching his fists in his hair for a moment of blessed silence before he heard someone clear their throat behind him. Startling at the noise, he turned, finding Gabriel leaning against the door, concern creasing his brow.

"Is somethin' wrong?" The honey-eyed man asked, frowning as he looked upon the sick form of Dean lying immobile and sleeping on the bed. Castiel got up quietly with one last look towards Dean, exiting the room and shutting the door softly as Gabriel moved. "Everything's fine, he's just got a slight fever." He replied softly, leading the other man from the house so they could speak at a normal volume.

"So, I guess we should just start in on the farming." Gabriel offered at the strange silence between them, walking on the path towards the wheat field. Castiel was pulled from his frantically disturbed thoughts by Gabriel's voice and nodded. "Once I know how to work everything, we can get a routine set up so your work load won't be so big." "Sounds fine to me." Gabriel said with a slight smile, which was oddly close to a smirk. "So, what happened to Dean, anyway?" He asked after a moment, the question too pressing to leave alone.

Castiel hesitated to answer, the memory still raw and painful for him to recount. But, there was no reason it should be, and with this resolve, he began telling Gabriel his story, beginning with discovering Dean. Quickly, he filtered through all the facts, not including anything of his own struggles or worries; Gabriel, or anyone for that matter, didn't need to know about those.

At the end of his story, Gabriel's face lit up with recognition. "Hey, you wouldn't happen to have been that crazy guy that came busting into the general store yesterday, were ya?" He asked with a smirk, not accounting for the impact his words might have. "Boy, did Mr. Whitney have a story about that! He went on and on about this crazy lookin' guy with his shirt half done, blood covering his hands, frantically demanding to know where Dr. Sing-" he went on, his words halting and smirk falling when he looked over to notice Castiel's frown, which looked angry, almost hurt. Ducking his head, Gabriel cleared his throat. "Sorry," he mumbled, thankful they had arrived at the field. Castiel nodded in response to the apology and schooled his expression, looking down to the damp dirt at his feet where the small green sprouts reached boldly up to the sun.

"So, the first thing about growin' wheat you need to know is that you don't need to worry it, it's a pretty hearty crop and can take care of itself most of the time." Gabriel began, bending down to brush his fingers along one of the smaller sprouts. "You've gotta watch to make sure most of 'em are healthy, cause if all of 'em start to brown up and die off, you know you've got a problem. I don't think that'll happen, though, Dean's got lucky with his land." Castiel listened intently, taking in all the information as his eyes scanned the large field.

"Mostly what you've gotta do is care for the soil, make sure it isn't dryin' out too much or getting too overrun by weeds." Gabriel finished, standing. "It seems like a lot of work, searchin' for the weeds everyday, but it gets easier with time," he explained, a smirk coming to his lips, "a lot like women." Castiel smiled hollowly at the joke, nodding as he motioned towards the barn. "You know what you'll be doing in there and out in the garden?" "Yeah," Gabriel responded, dusting off his hands, "I've worked with Dean before, back when he could still pay people to help."

Castiel looked to Gabriel, puzzled. He knew it wasn't proper to ask, but his curiosity got the best of him. "Why did he stop bein' able to pay people?" Gabriel's face went slightly more serious at the question. "It's a pretty sad story," he began. "Ya see, Dean used to have a brother, who got real sick with tuberculosis. He had a lot of money saved up at the time, used to say it was for when he found himself a wife. Anyway, he used damn near all of that money to send his brother out to one of the bigger towns back east, to get him into a proper hospital, but the poor boy ended up passing on anyway."

Castiel felt a wave of fresh guilt and empathy wash over him at the story. "Oh god, I didn't know..." Gabriel shrugged, reverting back to his light, nonchalant self. "He doesn't like to talk about it much." Nodding in understanding, Castiel turned back towards the path. "I uh, guess you can just finish up today by milkin' Sunshine and checking the garden." "Sounds fine to me." Gabriel said, patting the pocket he had put the money in.

* * *

After the first day of hesitant work he did, Castiel found himself falling into a routine. He would wake earlier than normal to clean Dean's shoulder, then cooked a light breakfast for the both of them. After that, he would head out to the field most of the day, sometimes checking in with Gabriel in passing to see how his work was going. It would be late afternoon by the time he would come into the house to do the cleaning, so he would often skip dinner and let Dean sleep clear through until night, when he served them both supper.

Dean seemed to be in good spirits about it all, although he almost always had a look of pain glinting in the back of his eye. They hadn't talked much about the injury itself, or about how debilitating it was, for whenever Castiel began to broach the topic, Dean would quickly change the subject, obviously cautious to admit he may never fully recover.

Everything seemed to be improving, and for three days after Gabriel had come to help, Dean's shoulder continued to improve. That is, until the morning of the fourth day. Castiel got up as he usually did, knocking before he entered Dean's room to tend to his wound.

"Mornin'," he greeted softly, lighting a lamp on the farmer's nightstand. "Good mornin'." Dean responded, voice almost fully recovered as he clenched his hand in the sheet beside him, preparing for the pain as Castiel slowly began to unwrap his shoulder.

"Gabriel came back from town yesterday with word from Dr. Singer, he said he'd be around today to come and have a loo-" Castiel began, his words cutting off as his eyes fell in horror upon the now unwrapped wound. Instead of the skin around the charred puncture wound being red and raw like it had been the first day, it had now adopted a purple, almost black hue, covered in a sickly mixture of clear fluid and what he could only assume was rotting flesh by the smell.

Dean looked over to the wound with wide, pain filled eyes, forcing himself to see the damage as the unsettling smell filled the air around him. Instantly gagging, he barely held down his dinner from the night before and began breathing heavily, fear gripping him. "Cas, what's wrong, why does it look like that?"

Castiel wanted to step back, wanted to cover it back up and never look upon the wound again. But, instead, as the sound of Dean's panicked breaths pulled him back into a neutral focus, he shook his head. "I don't know," he responded truthfully, placing a strong hand on Dean's chest to stop him from moving about too much.

"Hey, look at me." Dean did as he was told and looked up to where Castiel was standing above him, his breath still coming in short pants. "Just breathe with me, alright? Come on, deep breaths, there's no need to worry, Dr. Singer's gonna be here in less than three hours." Castiel reassured shakily, grateful when the farmer's breaths began to slow with his own. "I'm just gonna clean it like normal, then we'll see what he says." Dean nodded, his every muscle clenching in an instant reaction at the mention of the pain to come.

It went quickly, as it always did, but the pain was no less this time. In fact, it was much worse somehow, causing Dean to become light-headed, almost ready to pass out as Castiel wrapped the last of the gauze around his shoulder.

"Do ya feel like any breakfast?" Castiel asked, aiming for normalcy as he handed Dean a wet wash cloth, as he always did after cleaning. Dean shook his head as he had done the first day. "Just water."

Bobby arrived later that morning, black bag in hand as he knocked on the cabin's front door. "Howdy." Castiel greeted, opening the door to let the doctor in. He had decided against going out into the field that day, figuring one day off would be fine in order to watch Dean closely with the new development.

Bobby nodded in greeting as he stepped inside. "Howdy. How's Dean doin'?" Castiel sobered at the question, shaking his head. "I don't know. He seemed to be doin' fine, was even seeming better, but this morning when I took off his wrappin'..." He paused, not sure he was ready to describe what he'd seen without getting sick. "I don't think it's good."

Bobby's features were instantly lined with concern, a diagnosis already thrumming in suspicion at the back of his mind. "You don't have to come in now. I'll be back out in a few minutes." Castiel gave Dr. Singer a hollow yet still grateful smile, sitting on one of the chairs as the older man disappeared into the back room. He knew he should be in the room to support Dean, but at the moment he just couldn't handle it. Worry clenching at his stomach as he waited, he fidgeted with his hands, looking to the half-open door leading to Dean's room.

Thankfully, he didn't have to wait long until Bobby reemerged from the room. However, instead of the look of reassuring comfort on the doctor's face he had hoped to see, Castiel instead saw a look of solemn resignation. "What's wrong?" Castiel asked almost instantly, standing from his chair. Bobby shook his head, meeting Castiel's eyes in what almost seemed an apology. "He's got gangrene, which means his body's basically fighting back and killing the skin around his wound.".

Castiel felt his fists clench at his sides as he fought to remain neutral, and nodded, urging Bobby on. "Normally, I would deep clean the infected area and try to cut away as much of the dead skin as possible, but in Dean's case, I can't. His injury is awful close to his heart, and if the infection gets any worse, it'll poison his blood and he'll be gone within a day.".

Castiel felt dizzy at the news and placed a hand at the edge of the wooden table, breath wavering. "What are you sayin', then?" Bobby folded his hands before him, dreading what he was going to have to tell the obviously panicked man. "We've got to amputate his arm."

Castiel stepped back, the dizziness only getting worse as anger and denial welled in his chest. "No," he said, as if the simple word could stop what had to be done to save Dean's life. "No, ya can't, he was gonna get better, he was gonna have at least a little use of that arm," he rambled, looking up to Bobby as he felt tears sting at the back of his eyes. "He thought he was gonna get better," he nearly whispered, the words that used to be hopeful now bitter upon his lips with what had transpired.

Bobby reached up and squeezed Castiel's arm gently, letting his hand drop after a few moments. He had to keep it brief, to get all the information out. "It has to be today," he explained. "I haven't told him yet, I figured you might want to."

Castiel nodded, setting his jaw against his anger at the doctor. He knew Bobby couldn't have done anything to prevent it, but somehow rage still settled under his skin. "I'll tell him," he confirmed, brushing past Bobby to make his way towards Dean's room, taking a few calming breaths before he entered.

"Cas? What did he say?" Dean found himself asking almost instantly, not liking the pale look to Castiel's skin as he entered. Castiel crossed the room to sit on his chair next to Dean's bed, meeting the other man's eyes for a moment. "He says you have gangrene, says it's an infection," he began, unable to watch Dean's face drop in realization before he had even begun to explain what was to happen. "He said the wound's too close to your heart to try and treat it, and that he would have to," he paused, swallowing around the lump in his throat, "have to amputate.".

Dean turned his face away from Castiel's view at the words, his head echoing them almost in mockery.  _Infection... Too close to the heart... Amputation_. Feeling a wave of sickness, anger, and grief wash over him all at once, the farmer closed his eyes against his tears, finding the action unsuccessful in suppressing them as they slipped through his lashes.

When Dr. Singer had told him that first day he may never regain use of his arm, he had refused to accept it, and instead took the optimistic route, sure he would make at least a partial recovery. But now, all the thoughts that held a mixture of denial and hope for his arm were lost, instantly decimated by the one word he now knew would haunt him for the rest of his days: amputation. He would never be able to farm as he used to, eat as he used to, do anything as he used to. Now, he would never even be able to play guitar again, would never have the ability to relax into the soft rhythm and forget all of his troubles.

"When?" Dean found himself asking suddenly, eyes still closed, fingers clenched in anger as he choked the question out. Castiel looked on in pain as his words impacted Dean, and paused before answering, knowing the answer would only complicate things. "Today." "Son of a bitch." Dean breathed out in a near choked sob, trying to keep himself composed. All this meant was more pain, more complication, more relying unfairly on Castiel to help him run the farm.

Castiel hesitated at Dean's reaction, but placed a hand on his forearm, ignoring the sparking feeling as it tried to rise once more. "I'm sorry, Dean." "Sorry?" Dean asked with a dry, humorless, grief filled laugh. "What will sorry do now? I'll be useless."

Castiel removed his hand quickly at the words, pushing away his own tears. It was understandable, why Dean was reacting this way, and he knew it was nothing personal, but the harsh words had still stung. "Dean," he began, unsure of what he could say, "I haven't known you for long, just a little under a month. But in that time I've seen how hard you work, how honest you are and how good a man ya really are. You've made it this far," he continued, ignoring the shake of his voice, "and I know you can make it just a little more. I'll be here to help you, with whatever you'll be needin', but please, don't think you'll be useless."

Dean found himself tear up more at the words and nodded, barely accepting Castiel's small speech as truth. "Thank ya," he said after a moment, words clipped and wavering in an attempt to stop the sobs welling up in him. Then, in a moment of desperation, he reached out, squeezing Castiel's hand briefly before he got his wits about him and realized what he was doing, pulling away.

Castiel nearly flinched back at Dean's sudden gesture but forced himself to think nothing of it. The man was broken and battered, obviously he wouldn't be thinking of the implications reaching out blindly for any sort of comfort may hold. "Do ya want anything before..?" Dean shook his head. "I just want to get it over and done with," he replied, wiping at his face.

Castiel felt his stomach twist at Dean's words, but knew it was probably for the best. "I'll talk to Dr. Singer," he said quietly, handing Dean a wet towel to clean his face on before he exited the room, suppressing tears.


	13. Okay

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ******TRIGGER/CONTENT WARNING****** This chapter contains graphic, detailed descriptions of physical wounds, sickness, pain, blood, and medical care.

Castiel leaned against the wall just outside Dean's bedroom door, taking a few deep breaths. He knew it would be a painful process to tell the farmer, but never anticipated the self-loathing he saw in the green eyes of his friend. It wasn't simple self-pity he saw, nor was it sadness; it was anger. He'd never seen Dean harbor hatred before and now, he was harboring it towards himself. It hurt to watch, unable to do anything but offer hollow condolences.

Sighing, Castiel scrubbed a hand over his weary face and went out to find Dr. Singer standing by the door, hat in hand. "Where are you goin'?" He asked quickly, confusion furrowing his brow. "I've gotta go get my kit and a few other men to help hold him down." Bobby answered coolly, his expression solemn. "Other men? I thought I could just get Gabriel in here to help." Castiel replied, eyes flicking over Bobby's features in an attempt to discern his meaning. Bobby shook his head, frowning. "You never know what'll happen with these types of things, and it's better to have a few people around. While I'm gone, get some food in ya, rest a little. You'll need it.".

Castiel nodded, although his legs felt weak at the doctor's ominous proclamation of his reasoning behind needing more than two men in the room. "Can I give him anything to eat?" "I wouldn't, he's likely to be sick during the procedure." Bobby replied, letting out a breath as he looked to Castiel. "Look, from what I've seen, he's calmer around you. I don't want ya in there holdin' him down, but I do want ya to be there to talk him through it. If he doesn't have someone there to distract him, he'll focus on the pain so much he might slip into shock again.".

Castiel's throat caught at the words but he kept himself steady, knowing Dr. Singer knew what was best. He had, after all, done this before. "Yeah, alright," he answered after a moment, watching Bobby exit the small space with a tip of his hat.

Staring blankly at the now shut door, Castiel swallowed around his dry throat, trying to collect himself. He should be focusing on helping Dean but he simply couldn't help but take a few moments to collect himself. Pointedly not thinking about what had to be done in the next few hours, Castiel went out back to the root cellar and got out a few old biscuits to eat per Bobby's suggestion, forcing them down despite his lack of appetite.

"I brought ya some water." Castiel offered after coming back into the house and entering Dean's room. "Thank ya." Dean said quietly, taking a small sip before setting it on his nightstand. "So, Dr. Singer'll be back in a couple hours with a few other men to help." Castiel explained after a few moments, watching as Dean's frown deepened. He obviously didn't want to think about it, but it was a necessity.

Dean nodded at the words. "Ya don't have to stay," he began, not meeting the other man's eyes. "I know how hard this must be for ya and ya shouldn't have to watch when-" he paused for a moment, setting his jaw, "you know." Castiel's eyes softened at Dean's words, and he instantly shook his head. "I would never leave you alone with this," he answered softly, wanting to place his hand on the farmer's arm but deciding against it. "You've given me more than anyone has any right to ask for, this is the least I can do."

Dean, remaining humble, wanted to shake his head, tell Castiel it was no trouble at all, but at one glance at his friend, knew how much the answer had taken him. "Thank ya," he eventually replied, managing a small smile. It was hollow, the expression, filled with trepidation and pain, but conveyed pleasant meaning nonetheless. Castiel returned the smile silently, and sat back in the chair, comfortable silence surrounding him for a few minutes.

Dean watched Castiel, obviously deep in thought as he stared out the partially open window. He seemed so content here, even despite the circumstances. He wasn't even meant to end up at the farm and yet, there he was, caring for everything like he belonged. But deep down, Dean knew he didn't feel like he belonged; he probably yearned for home. And there it was, the one thought Dean knew he had to bring up, even before the accident. He had planned to talk about it sometime in the near future, ask Castiel what his plans were after he got his share of the harvest money but obviously hadn't gotten around to it due to the accident. But, now was as good a time as any, especially with everything that had happened.

"Cas?" Dean asked softly, breaking the silence in the room. Castiel looked away from the fly he was following on the wall and met Dean's eyes. "Yeah?" Dean cleared his throat, looking down to his bed sheets to search for the correct words. "I know this is a long way off still, but with everything that's gone on, I figured I best ask ya."

"Ask me what?" Castiel asked, hesitant at Dean's suddenly serious tone. "About your future, what you'll be wantin' to do after this season's harvest when ya get the money. I know ya want to go back home as soon as ya can, and I'll be recovered by then." He paused, gauging Castiel's reaction carefully before continuing. "You're a good man, far better than anyone I've ever met. I just don't want to stop ya from doing what ya need to just 'cause you feel like I need help still. Once I've recovered, I can get a handle on the farm again, start payin' people to work.".

Castiel listened carefully, surprised by the sudden turn in Dean's thoughts. But the farmer was right, by the time harvest was done and winter was over, Dean would be fully recovered and used to working with one arm. Clasping his hands together, he took a breath. "Well, I imagine by the time this comin' winter is over you'll be fully healed," he began, still thinking through his options as he talked. "And I've been thinkin' lately, about going home, and I think I do want to. I don't mind it here, I've actually come to like it, but home," he shrugged, "it's home, and I'm thinkin' I want to head back next spring.".

Although it tugged at his chest a bit to hear, Dean knew it was for the best. "We'll plan for next spring then," he said, giving the other man another, stronger smile. "They say home is where the heart is, and I'm glad ya don't feel held up by me." Castiel gave Dean a grateful smile, the feeling fleeting as a knock came from the front door. His happy expression transitioning quickly into something far more solemn, the blue-eyed man rose from his chair. "I'll go let 'em in, try and drink some water." And with that, he was gone from the room.

Dean's stomach clenched up at the sudden sound, his shoulder giving a responding stab of pain as his heart rate picked up. He knew it was coming, the pain, but somehow that made it worse. Taking a deep, slightly shaky breath, he nodded to Castiel and reached over to grab his glass of water. After downing a few gulps, he sat back on the pillows, trying not to think about the immense pain to come.

"Dr. Singer." Castiel greeted curtly, nodding to each of the three, neutral faced men and Gabriel, who trailed in after the doctor, hats in hands. "Howdy." Bobby replied, not taking much time before getting down to business. "I'll need some hot water and towels."

Castiel nodded mutely and set about the task, which went far too quickly. Soon, he was bringing the pail of steaming water into Dean's room, setting it on the dresser along with the towels he had managed to find.

"I've got nothing to ease the pain. I would normally order in some chloroform but it would take too long, and it's too risky to wait." Bobby explained to Dean, apologetic in his tone. "But this'll be quick, the whole process should only take about fifteen minutes. I'll cut around to the bone and then take it from the base of your shoulder, at the ball and socket joint where your arm connects to your body."

Dean met Castiel's eyes for half a second, fear and pain in his own before he nodded. "Just get it over with," he answered gruffly, the self-hatred back in full swing. Bobby gave Dean a sympathetic look and turned to Castiel. "Just sit by the bed, keep him focused on somethin' else.".

Castiel obeyed silently, going to his usual place beside Dean's bed as the three other men and Gabriel crowded around, each taking a different place to hold as Bobby wiped off his large scalpel. "Breathe, Dean." Bobby reminded calmly, cutting away the bandage quickly before he began.

White hot pain shot through Dean's body even at the simple peeling of the bandage from his wound and he soon was breathing deeply as he had been told. However, the calming, steady intake of steady oxygen didn't last long when Bobby began to make the first incision. Never before had Dean felt such agony, not even in the initial injury. Straining against the many hands holding him in place, he cried out, already feeling his eyes well with unbidden tears at the nearly unbearable feeling.

"Dean, look at me." Castiel commanded shakily, unable to watch as the procedure continued. Dean, chest rising with panicked breath, looked to Castiel just as he had down on the river bank. Knowing he needed to distract the farmer, Castiel's mind raced for something to say. "Tell me about your favorite memory," he said after a moment, grasping Dean's forearm gently in hopes to ground him.

Dean shut his eyes against the pain, trying to stop the swimming of his vision. "I was young and my dad had just brought me and Sammy in from the fields where we were helpin' him," he said after a moment through gritted teeth, fighting the urge to shout. "My momma had just made my favorite, apple pie, and we-" he paused, unable to keep a pained scream from disrupting him as Bobby finished his first cut down to the bone, "we ate damn near all of it, an' me and Sammy were never so happy and sick in our lives," he finished with a weak, barely there chuckle, no smile on his face to match the sound.

Castiel listened, nodding as he tried to focus on anything but the dizzying scent of rotting flesh permeating the air around him. "That sounds nice," he responded, watching Dean try to strain against the holds on him as he groaned loudly with the pain. Thinking quickly, he patted Dean's forearm to focus him back. "Alright, now tell me about your favorite thing to do," he said, trying to calm himself as his tone was almost frantic.

Dean took a deep breath, barely able to speak through the pain that was threatening to cause him to pass out. "I like playin' guitar," he responded, in too much agony to register the fact he was speaking of the one thing he would never be able to do again. "It's nice to create somethin' from nothing, it's," he cut himself off with another loud cry of anguish, "it's relaxing," he finished, panicked eyes meeting Castiel's to counter his words.

Castiel gave Dean a smile, despite how meaningless and out-of-place the expression was, especially now. He was about to say something else, but heard Bobby begin to speak as he pulled out a medium-sized saw.

"I've gotta get through the bone now, only a few more minutes. You're likely to pass out for a couple hours, Dean, so just breathe through it and let it happen, don't fight it." Bobby informed quickly. Dean nodded, squeezing his eyes shut as another wave of pain crashed over him.

Castiel squeezed Dean's forearm, not having a second thought as to why he had left his hand there the whole time. However, the thought didn't last long before Dean was screaming once more, his face going pale with the quick movements of Bobby.

Castiel watched helplessly as Dean went white as a sheet, his breaths coming in short pants before he slumped against the pillows, passed out as Bobby predicted. Suddenly tuning out of focus on Dean, Castiel took in the scene around him: the men's somber faces as they backed off of holding Dean down, the concentrated look on Bobby's face, and the single, horrifying sound of bone scraping against metal that filled the quiet room. Soon, it became too overwhelming, and in an action he wasn't proud of, Castiel rose and quickly left the room, stomach churning. It wasn't fair, none of it was, and now he had to watch as the kindest man he ever knew was deprived of an essential limb.

Taking a few deep breaths, Castiel could still hear the sickening sound from the dining room and soon found himself leaving out the back door, heading towards the river. It would just be a quick trip, wouldn't take him more than ten minutes.

This time, Henry didn't follow him, instead staying at his laying position at the back door, whining with instinct that something was wrong with his master. Barely noticing the lack of the animal's presence, Castiel trudged on, his mind devoid of all thoughts as he searched for a less steep route down to the river bank. He wasn't sure exactly why he had chosen now to do it, but between working the farm, caring for Dean, and keeping himself held up, he hadn't had any time to retrieve their hats, which still lay at the bottom of the bank.

Carefully, he made his way down, finding his way to the spot where Dean had lain not two weeks ago, impaled upon the tree branch. Bending down, Castiel picked up both their hats, not thinking to question why he felt the sudden urge to be there. But, he thought as he dusted off the accessory items, he couldn't stand being in the house, the pressure and weight of everything was too much. He didn't want to break down in front of anyone, and at the moment, it seemed imminent.

Sighing, he turned to head back up the bank, his eye catching on the branch Dean had been impaled on. It was now flaked with a coppery brown substance, which Castiel instantly recognized as blood. Feeling sickness wash over him once more, he turned, closing his eyes against the world for a few moments as tears threatened to overwhelm him.

Donning his own hat comfortably once more as he collected his emotion, Castiel opened his eyes and straightened himself up, determined not to be deterred. He could handle it all later but now, he had to get back to Dean. It didn't take long to trudge back up the bank, although he was careful about his step and quickly he was back at the house, entering into the small cabin just as Bobby, Gabriel and the rest of the men emerged from the back room.

Not meeting all their questioning gazes, Castiel hung his and Dean's hats on the rack beside the door, turning to Bobby. "How's he doin'?" Bobby gave Castiel a sympathetic look and finished wiping off his bloodied hands. "He's stable, doing pretty good for what he's been through. I left some extra skin when I removed the arm, so I was able to sew that over the wound to stop most of the bleedin'. He's bandaged up pretty tight, so it shouldn't need much care now, just a cleanin' every two days. I'll be back in three weeks to take out the stitches, but from what I can see he'll heal nicely with all the infection gone.".

Castiel listened carefully, feeling sick at the descriptions but relieved at the somewhat better state of the farmer. "Look, I can't thank ya all enough," he said after a moment, to which the men nodded. "I'll just clean up in there, and we'll be outta your hair." Bobby said after a few moments of increasingly awkward silence. Castiel gave the kindly doctor a hollow smile, sitting at the table as the men left the cabin for home, leaving only Gabriel as Bobby cleared up Dean's room.

"So, he's gonna be fine now, that's good." Gabriel said after a moment, trying to smile and be himself despite his shaking hands from watching such a gruesome scene. Castiel nodded. "Yeah, I hope so," he replied dazedly, fatigue wearing on him from the emotional toll of the day.

It was only five minutes before Bobby was done cleaning and soon he emerged from the room, supplies in hand along with something large wrapped in a sheet, which was what Castiel could only assume was the arm.

Turning away with a lurch of his stomach, Castiel murmured his thanks once more and bid Bobby and Gabriel both goodbye, shutting the door behind them. Running a hand over his weary features, the blue-eyed man set about lighting the lanterns around the cabin as darkness fell, saving Dean's room for last.

Stepping into the small space which now smelled only of dusty air and a hint of whiskey, Castiel lit the small lantern beside the farmer's bed and sat once more, the sight of a simple, bandaged stump resting on blood soaked sheets jarring at first. But, soon, like everything lately, the absent arm blended into normalcy, and soon all he focused on was the now peaceful look on Dean's face.

"I'm sorry this happened." Castiel said softly, placing his hand on the farmer's forearm despite the fact he couldn't hear him. "I wish bad things didn't happen to good people," he continued, blue eyes turning to Dean's hand lying on the bed sheets. At first, he hesitated, knowing how strange the urge was, but soon Castiel found himself wrapping his hand around the farmer's, squeezing it gently. "I wish it was me instead'a you, lord knows I deserve it."

Then, with the broken, whispered confession, Castiel bowed his head and let a few tears slip, the guilt, stress, and pain of the past month and a half crashing down about him. It was a strange thing, to finally break down once everything was okay. But in that moment, squeezing Dean's hand in his without a second thought, he wasn't sure anything would be ever okay.


	14. Hats

It had been a two weeks since the amputation. At first, it had been strange, to see Dean so withdrawn and worn with grief and self-pity, but soon, that too blended into a sickening state of normalcy. Gabriel had been working hard each day, even taking some of Castiel's chores without even asking. Despite what many people in town thought, the mischievous man was, at heart, very kind.

However, despite the lightened work load, Castiel still could not spend much time caring for Dean and often had to leave him alone in the room. Dr. Singer had said he could move carefully once blood stopped showing up on the bandages, but that hadn't happened yet, so Dean sat in bed, day after day.

That was, until a warm Thursday morning. It was business as usual, Castiel entering Dean's room to check on the wound and clean it as he did every Tuesday, Thursday, and Sunday, without much talking between the two. But, this time, instead of seeing the bandage tinted red with the viscous substance, the cloth came away clean, with little sticking to the healthy looking stitches.

"Dean?" Castiel asked, smiling slightly. Maybe finally walking around would help the farmer cheer up a bit, chase away the dark, hopeless depth to his eyes that had seemed to show up overnight. Dean looked up to Castiel's happy face, his brows coming together in question. "Is somethin' wrong?" "Not at all." Castiel replied, holding up the clean bandage for Dean to see. "Dr. Singer said ya could get up and walk around a bit once the blood stopped showin' up on the cloth."

Dean, despite the feeling of sluggish helplessness that always seemed present now, found his features breaking into a smile. "Finally. I've been in this bed too damn long," he breathed. Castiel nodded in agreement, watching as Dean sat up carefully with a wince. "Just try and keep it stable," he reminded, helping the farmer sit up and swing his legs over the side of the mattress.

Dean nodded and ignored the intense pain in the shoulder that used to hold his arm, too eager to get up and move about to care. "I can make it, don't worry about me." He said after a moment, standing slowly.

It was successful, at the first three steps he took. But, soon after, Dean found himself lose his footing and balance, falling to the side where his arm used to be. "Hey, whoa there." Castiel said quickly, avoiding Dean's shoulder as he caught the farmer mid fall, his hands wrapping around the other man's waist to steady him.

As soon as he was steady once more, Dean felt shame and embarrassment color his features and stood up straight, pushing Castiel away gently on an impulse he felt poorly about the next moment. Castiel cleared his throat as he was pushed off, purposefully ignoring the pounding of his heart. It was really nothing to have been so close, it was sick and strange and disgusting to be feeling this way, so he quickly chalked it up to nothing and ignored it.

"You alright?" He asked after a moment. Dean, brow furrowed with anger directed towards himself, nodded with a gruff 'yes' and turned to walk around the room, splashing water over his face at the wash basin as he made a conscious effort to control his balance.

Castiel stood somewhat awkwardly at his place beside Dean's bed, unsure of what to say. "Do you wanna have a walk around the farm? The field is growin' like a weed and I'm sure Sunshine will be happy to have ya walk her to the pasture again. That is, if you're feelin' up to it," he finished quickly.

Dean cleared his throat, thinking for a moment. He didn't feel motivation to do anything, in fact he still felt quite put out with immense grief and a strange sense of loss over a simple limb, but nodded nonetheless. "Yeah, that would be good," he answered after a stretch of heavy silence, frowning at what he knew he had to ask next. "So, after ya bandage me back up, I'll be wantin' to change into some clothes," he muttered, looking down to his dress consisting only of breeches and a loose cotton shirt.

An embarrassed flush began to creep up Castiel's neck but he stopped it as soon as it began, internally scolding himself for being such a child about the task. Dean needed his help in something he was obviously humiliated about and here he was flushing like a school boy. "Yeah, of course," he answered quickly, grabbing the gauze. "I guess we should just take off the shirt for now." Dean nodded in silent confirmation as he deftly unbuttoned his shirt with one hand, now having the task mastered by practicing it during his long hours of bed confinement. Now, buttoning his shirts back up, that was another issue. He would work on it later, he decided as his shirt was slipped off.

It didn't take long to lightly clean and re-bandage the thankfully healthy looking flesh and soon Castiel had no other option but to make his way over to the dresser and pull out some fresh jeans, a crisp shirt, suspenders, and, of course, Dean's red bandanna.

Before, when Dean initially got the injury, Castiel had taken all of his clothing and washed it of the blood and vomit, leaving it in the farmer's dresser in hopes he would keep up his health to wear them again.

Smiling curtly, Castiel held up the fresh items. "These alright?" Dean nodded quickly, wanting to get it all over with. "Yeah." Castiel, at the confirmation, got about the task quickly, beginning with the jeans. "It'll be easier with time," he reassured, helping the farmer slip into the clean denim. Soon, the jeans were up around Dean's now somewhat slim hips, the fly and button open as if to mock and worsen the already awkward situation. But, Castiel didn't have to debate for long on the intimate dressing action, for Dean reached over and pulled up his own zipper, leaving only the button to be done.

Ignoring the horrifying increase in his inappropriately erratic heartbeat, Castiel reached down and quickly did up the button, turning for the shirt next. It didn't take long to fit the shirt onto the farmer's body and without another word or glance at Dean, the blue-eyed man deftly did up the buttons, careful not to let his fingers skim over the golden skin on the farmer's fit torso. That would be bad, to say the least. Besides, he should be focusing on helping Dean, not twisting the action into something else in his obviously sickened mind.

With this resolve, Castiel did up Dean's suspenders, leaving the one that was supposed to go on his injured shoulder down. "What do ya want me to do with this one?" He asked after a moment, the one loose side of the holding elastic dangling from his fingertips. Dean looked down, sadness and slight anger flooding his features at the sight. "Just tuck it into my waistband, it'll be fine there," he answered quickly.

Castiel quickly complied, and with a quick tie of Dean's bandanna around his neck, stepped back, eyes lingering unintentionally on the loose hanging, odd-looking sleeve hanging where the farmer's arm should have been.

Dean cleared his throat, pushing down the shameful crimson flush that threatened at the back of his neck. "Can ya just tie it in a knot so the sleeve's not danglin' there?" He asked softly, not meeting the other man's eyes. Castiel nodded, putting on a neutral face as to not further embarrass or shame Dean. "There," he said, tying two knots in the empty sleeve to keep from hanging much, "not bad at all."

Dean opened his mouth in an unconscious effort to argue with the previous statement, but quickly, thankfully, stopped himself, giving Castiel a short, clipped smile. "Thank ya," he said, a bit of eagerness and hope climbing its way from the dark depths of his depressed attitude as the fresh clothes fit on him nicely. "I'll go get your boots." Castiel supplied, exiting for but a moment.

Dean wiped his hand over his still damp face, smoothing his probably mussed hair with an uncaring gesture. Well, if anything else embarrassing happened in his lifetime, he thought with a sigh, it wouldn't be as bad as that was. Castiel was obviously uncomfortable, and his task was only made more uncomfortable and rushed due to the awkward lack of his arm. Dean supposed it didn't help he was having disgusting thoughts of how comforting it felt to have another person so close the whole time.

"Damn this." Dean cursed under his breath, wincing as a shot of nerve pain ran through his shoulder and, strangely, bringing the sensation that his arm was still there and paining him. Well, that was just fine. First, he lost his arm, and if that wasn't bad enough, he was now growing even more insane by feeling his arm was still there. Shaking his head of the thoughts, the farmer looked up to see Castiel enter the room with boots in his hand, along with something Dean instantly recognized as his hat. Eyebrows pulling together in puzzlement, he looked up to the other man. "How'd ya get my hat? It fell off, if I remember right, when..." he trailed off, not yet ready to finish the sentence.

Castiel nodded. "Yeah, ya did drop it down by the water. But I went back and got it, figured you'd want it back when you got better." Dean, for the first time in weeks, found himself genuinely smiling. "Thank ya." he said, his expression suddenly going solemn again as a thought overtook him. "But, Cas, goin' down to that river again was dangerous. After what happened, I'm just wary of how steep that bank is." "I know," Castiel replied in understanding, setting Dean's boots down to he could carefully step into them, "but I found a safer way down, it was fine.".

Dean heard Castiel's reassurance but still frowned, waiting for the other man to stand from helping him with his shoes before he spoke. "Just be careful," he said softly, placing his strong hand on Castiel's shoulder to convey just how serious he was. "I don't think I could handle it if somethin' happened to ya, too," he admitted softly, not realizing he had kept his hand in place as he made prolonged contact with the deep blue eyes that had haunted his inappropriate dream all those weeks ago.

Castiel found himself caught up in Dean's worried expression, truly looking for the first time into the green eyes of the other man. They looked so serious, so pained and careful, it nearly was too much to hold the gaze. Heart pounding at the sudden contact, at the inexplicable tension in the air, Castiel swallowed hard and nodded. "Yeah, I'll be careful," he reassured softly.

Dean, suddenly realizing just how uncomfortable he was making Castiel, and if he was completely honest, himself, backed off, clearing his throat to break the now unbearably thick and awkward silence of the room. "Thank ya," he mumbled, the content feeling of being close to the other man fleeting as his dampened spirits returned, heavy as a dark rain cloud hanging low above a field. Castiel, watching as Dean's face fell once again into grief, put on a brave smile, breaking the strange buzz in the air. "Well, I'm sure Sunshine's eager to see ya. I don't think she likes me as much as you," he joked, trying to keep the conversation light.

Dean smiled ever so slightly at Castiel's efforts, thoughts now turning in eager anticipation to the young Jersey cow he had so carefully raised from her premature, risky birth. "Yeah, it'll be nice to get out." "Do ya want me to come with you?" Castiel asked after a moment, ready to ignore the sweeping that had to be done in the cabin. Dean thought for a moment, just about to agree when he was reminded of the strange moment they just had. It would be best if he was alone, got some time out to clear his head of the sickness that lay in his mind. "I'll be fine on my own, but thank ya," he answered. "You deserve a break now, just stay here and rest.".

Castiel smiled gratefully. "Alright, I won't wait up. Will ya be back by dinner?" Dean nodded. "Yeah, I'm mighty ready to sit at the table and eat again like normal." "I'll make somethin' real nice for ya then." Castiel reassured, now a bit more confident in his cooking skills.

Dean gave Castiel another smile, despite the sadness he still felt lingering behind the expression as they exited his room out into the front of the small cabin. "See ya soon, then," he answered, donning his hat before carefully making his way out into the fresh air.


	15. Pie

As soon as Dean was had left the cabin, Castiel went to the recipe cards he was given, rifling through them to find something he could use. It didn't take long and soon, a specific one caught his eye: Fried Salt Pork with Gravy. Furrowing his brow thoughtfully, Castiel tried to remember if Dean had any dried hams hanging in the root cellar, and after a few moments, decided to go check.

Descending the dirt stairs down into the pantry-like space, his eyes flicked over the shadowed cans of various syrups, fruits and vegetables, finally falling blessedly on a single, small dried ham hanging in the corner. Making his way over to the meat, Castiel took out his pocket knife and cut off a slice, taking a whiff of it before popping it into his mouth to test.

Delicious, he decided with a content hum as the strong, salty flavor burst over his tongue. Looking down to the recipe card still in hand, he tucked it back into his pocket before cutting off six thick slices of the ham, holding them carefully as he went back up the steps and into the cabin. Setting the blessedly not-rotten meat onto the cutting board, the blue-eyed man fished out the card to slowly but surely read over it.

Following the instructions wasn't difficult, now that he was used to how the stove worked but he was still a bit awkward and clumsy when it came to cooking. Nonetheless, he remained in good spirits, hoping some of his happy energy would help Dean in his difficult and obviously painful physical and emotional recovery. Placing the slightly too-salty meat in water to boil off some of the excess seasoning, Castiel ducked out back to pick some small green beans from the garden he had tended to expertly. At least he had known how to do that, he thought as he carried the handful of beans into the house.

Quickly and efficiently, the blue-eyed man prepared the vegetables and placed them in the water he had used to boil the ham slices. Wiping a dab of sweat from his brow with his bandanna, Castiel soon had each of the ham slices coated in a flour mixture, and set about frying up each piece, making coffee while he waited.

"Damn," he muttered, trying to keep up with everything as the food cooked away faster than he could keep up with it. As a result, the beans were a bit too soft and the ham was a little too browned, but all in all it was a success.

Feeling he was forgetting something, Castiel set the ham and beans to safely keep warm at the back of the stove, checking the recipe card. Oh, he thought gratefully, it was just gravy. Reading over the card, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. Coffee? "Ya can't make gravy with coffee." Castiel muttered in confusion under his breath. But the cards hadn't failed him yet, might as well try. Besides, he already had the beverage made, why not try?

With the new open mindset, Castiel set about following the directions, pouring the coffee into the skillet he had used to cook the ham. Soon after, he added butter and water, coming out with a thin, bubbling, dark liquid. Curious, he dipped his spoon in and tried it hesitantly, surprised to find the thin substance delicious.

Quite proud of the meal by now, Castiel took the recipe card back to the pile, fully intending to save it. Placing it back in the stack, his eye caught on a card towards the back, which had the words 'apple pie' neatly scrawled over the top. Mind reverting back to the painful event of the amputation, Castiel clearly remembered Dean's words of his happy memory of eating apple pie with his younger brother. Suddenly feeling the impulse to do something more to lift the farmer's spirits, Castiel took out the recipe. It would be at least another hour until Dean came back, so he could bake the pie and keep the food warmed till then.

Determined now to try and to the best he could with what little skill he possessed, the blue-eyed man exited the cabin and headed on the short, winding path to an apple tree he had noticed not two days earlier. It stood in a slightly shaded part of the farm, strong and proud in its worn bark that showed many years' experience. Breathing in the fresh, sweet scent emanating from the foliage, Castiel searched through the large green leaves to find a few decent sized apples, only coming up with seven small ones. But, it looked to be enough, and really anything would do.

Heading back into the cabin, Castiel scrubbed off the fruit, peeled slicing each into large, inexperienced chunks, pieces of the thick-skinned core still adhering to some of the slices. It took a while to find all the ingredients, but soon the apples were tossed in a mixture of butter, sugar, cinnamon, and nutmeg; the dough being formed soon after much cursing and difficulty. However, the end result was just as good. It wasn't perfect, for the apples didn't quite fill the shell, and the crust ripped in a few places on the top, but all in all it looked like a pie.

Placing the cooking rack in the stove, Castiel carefully placed the pie into the hot iron belly and stepped back, wiping at his face once more. It wasn't perfect, but it was enough, and he hoped it would turn Dean's spirits.

Meanwhile, Dean was out walking Sunshine to the pasture, talking quietly to the docile, ambling cow. "It still pains me quite a bit," he finished, after getting out the story of his accident and the amputation. He didn't know why, but he always had talked to animals about his problems during his solitary life. It seemed to help, getting his thoughts out. Sunshine looked up to him with glassy, almost vacant black eyes, not understanding a word of what her farmer had said before she went to graze on the fresh daffodils in the field, a special early summer treat that only came in a one month window each year.

Dean smiled ever so slightly, turning his face to the warm sun. It still was horrible to think about the amputation and he still couldn't shake the undeniable depression that had washed over him, but he was alive and even in his self-pitying state, he still knew that mattered most.

Once again, as they always seemed to lately, the farmer's thoughts turned to Castiel. The man had risked his own life to save his, had done all the farm work, had gotten help from Gabriel, and even sacrificed his own sleep and comfort just to help. It saddened Dean slightly to think about, because he knew that no matter what he ever did, he could never thank his unlikely friend for everything properly. But, until next spring when Castiel was planning to leave, he would do his damned best.

Mind now wandering to the future, Dean contemplated Castiel leaving. Although it had only been close to three months of having the other man around, Dean had found himself enjoying his company more than anyone he had ever encountered. He knew the exact reason for this, but refused to acknowledge it, and instead forced himself to accept that Castiel wouldn't be at the farm for much longer.

Sighing softly, Dean felt slight loneliness creep back into his chest at the mere thought but pushed it away. Castiel was here now and he would damn well enjoy the company of his friend while he still could, all sick thoughts aside.

With this resolution and realization it was near dinner time, Dean glanced once more at the obedient cow before making his way slowly back to the house, detecting the scent of food before he even reached the porch.

"Somethin' smells good." Dean said, hanging his hat up as he repeated his words from the first night Castiel had prepared dinner. He may not have been up for much, but he could still put on a happy face despite everything.

Castiel turned, drying his hands on a small cloth. "Ready to eat?" He asked, a sense of eagerness welling within him. It would be nice to finally share a meal with Dean again, to have him up and about once more. Dean nodded, sitting as he always had as normalcy found its comforting way into his bones.

"It isn't much, just thought you'd like somethin' different than pancakes, soup, or chicken." Castiel explained, joking about his own cooking as he dished up a plate for Dean. Dean's eyes widened slightly as the well prepared meal was set before him, surprise overtaking his features for a moment. "Wow, this looks great," he said genuinely, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. He may have been able to use one of his arms, but his ability to eat wasn't hindered, and he mumbled thanks to no one in particular for that.

Castiel nearly beamed, as the cooking had been a difficult skill to pick up. "Thank ya." Dean nodded in response, taking a bit of time to cut off a piece of ham with the side of his fork before he was able to eat a bite. He felt a slight bit of anger and shame at this but pushed it away; this was a good meal, he was sitting at the table, and he was up and about again. Count the good things, that's what his momma had always said.

"Oh. Wow..." Dean said over the bite of slightly overcooked ham in his mouth, groaning in satisfaction. "This is really good." Castiel smiled once more. "I'm glad ya think so." "You're not havin' any?" Dean questioned, looking up to Castiel, who was hovering near the stove, unmoving. "I'll eat in a minute, just gotta keep an eye on-" Castiel began, glancing into the oven. "Oh damn it!" He cursed, quickly grabbing a towel to save the pie, which was just beginning to get too-dark at the edges.

Dean looked to the scene in confusion before what was happening registered as Castiel whisked something out of the oven, something that smelled all too familiar. "Pie?" He questioned carefully, the sight striking something deep within him. Castiel felt a blush creep up his neck and shrugged, setting the slightly mangled pastry on the counter to cool. "I remembered what ya said, about your favorite memory. I figured it would lift your spirits," he explained, feeling open and vulnerable now he admitted his intentions.

Dean felt a lump in his throat at the gesture, and before he knew what he was doing, rose from his chair, eyes stinging as they fell upon the torn, ever so slightly burnt pie. "Cas," he said softly, the name more a statement than a question, an utterance of unspoken gratefulness for the simple action that meant so much, especially with everything that happened.

Watching Dean stand so quickly, Castiel felt worry nag at the edge of his conscious; perhaps he had gotten too personal with the gesture. "Dean, if I-" He began, suddenly finding himself cut off as an embarrassed, emotional looking Dean pulled him into a strong, one-armed hug as best he could.

At first, Castiel didn't react, in fact he froze as his heart rate picked up annoyingly again. But in a split second, he pushed down his nervous feelings and simply returned the embrace gently, knowing it must be a gesture of ultimate trust and friendship for Dean. Dean stayed hugging the slightly shorter man for a moment before he realized what he was doing, and quickly backed off, clearing the lump out of his throat as he composed himself. "Uh, well, thank ya, Cas," he said after a moment.

Castiel was still a bit dazed from the sudden show of platonic affection, but forced himself to focus back into reality, offering a shaky smile. "I just wanted to make ya feel better." Dean felt the lump in his throat return at the words and sat back down, controlling himself with a few deep breaths. "Ya did, I feel a lot better. This means a lot, I'll never be able to thank ya for everything you've done." Castiel shook his head, turning to dish his meal up instead of holding eye contact with Dean during the personal conversation, as it quickly became too overwhelming. "Ya can thank me by continuin' to get better," he said quietly, sitting down to the meal.

Dean felt something swell in his chest as he watched Castiel begin to eat, and although he didn't openly acknowledge it to himself, he subconsciously knew it was adoration. And, if he was bold enough, would even go so far to say it was love. But no, men didn't think like that about other men. So, instead, he chalked the feeling up to gratefulness, fooling even himself successfully as he took another bite of the meal. "I'll do my best," he responded after a moment.

The rest of the meal was relatively silent after the huge show of thankfulness Dean had shown in the kitchen, and soon plates were scraped clean, the two men barely leaving room for dessert in their bellies. Nonetheless, the pie was served up, still warm. It wasn't the best pastry in the world, as the filling was too runny, the apples were sliced too thick to cook all the way through, and the crust was just a little too dense. But to Dean, it was the best apple pie he'd ever tasted.

Silently as he gave Castiel another genuine, grateful smile and dug into the dessert, Dean decided in that moment that his favorite memory had been replaced. Now, it consisted of one thoughtful blue-eyed man, who had enough heart to consider him a friend. And even despite everything that had happened, in that moment, eating mediocre pie in the too-stuffy cabin with a man he had disturbing feelings for, Dean was happier than he had ever been.


	16. Dependence

Despite the pie and the overly comforting hug that he wished could have lasted longer, Dean didn't simply feel better. Sure, his spirits were lifted often in the following week by being around Castiel, the blue-eyed man trying his best to help, but it just wasn't enough. For in the lonely hours of early morning, before Castiel came in to help him dress, Dean would lie awake in bed and somehow  _feel_ his absent limb, its false presence mocking him to the point of tears. It felt horrible, as if he had suffered a deep loss, the emotion almost akin to that of which he had experienced after Sam had passed. And in that, he only was further beaten down by his own self-pity, sinking deeper into the sadness each day he woke from sleep.

Wiping at his seemingly ever-present tears, Dean sat up in bed with a bit of difficulty on the twenty-first day without his arm. Trying his best not to think about it, the farmer rose from the warm, soft comfort of his sheets and fixed his drawers to some form of decency before Castiel came in.

"Dean?" Castiel called, as he did every morning with a knock before he entered his friend's room. Dean cleared his throat of the sleepy gruffness and answered after a moment. "Come on in." Castiel felt his stomach clench at the tell-tale waver in Dean's words, which had only increased with each passing day. "Mornin'," he greeted properly, heading over to the dresser to grab clothing for the day.

Dean had gotten better at doing up his buttons and now didn't need much help in the task of dressing, save for pulling on each article and tying up the sleeve where his arm was absent. It was good, to see the farmer regain independence and strength, even in the small tasks he began with to get back into the routine of work. He could now milk Sunshine, pull weeds in the field, brush the horses, and help with the table setting. But, even with the improvements each day with Dean's balance, coördination, and ease of using one arm, Castiel still couldn't shake the feeling that something wasn't right.

From the swollen look of the farmer's eyes and the waver in his voice each morning, he knew something was very amiss with his friend's emotional well-being. And yet, the blue-eyed man still hadn't said anything. He knew Dean didn't wish to talk about it, but bottling up feelings wouldn't help either. Castiel had learned that the hard way, the way that had almost gotten him kicked off the farm.

Shaking himself from his thoughts, Castiel helped Dean pull on his jeans, shirt, suspenders, and boots, standing back as the farmer buttoned up his own clothing.

"Dean, I know ya aren't one to really talk, especially now," he began, hesitation in his voice as he tied a knot in the hanging sleeve, "but ya can't go on like this," he continued, his tone serious and respectful as he chose his words carefully. "I see what this has been doin' to ya, and ya can't get better if you bury everything." Dean instantly felt himself close off at Castiel's words, and shook his head, vaguely registering his absent arm somehow paining him. "I'm fine, it's just a bit much to deal with."

Castiel frowned, the expression showing up in the worried lines of his face. "Just think about it, alright? I don't wanna see you down by this, you're a good man." Dean turned away, reaching for a wash cloth to refresh his face of the tear lines he could feel tight against his cheeks. "Yeah," he responded shortly.

At the response, Castiel felt his worry surge, almost turning into an anger. "Damn it, Dean," he said gruffly, reaching out to gently turn the farmer around by his good shoulder, dropping his hand after a moment when he realized what he had just done. He was being frank and extremely personal, he knew, but he didn't want Dean to go through the same thing he was simply for the fact there was no other outlet to cope with but self-pity and guilt.

"I know, it's awful." Castiel began, leveling for the first time with another person about what he had been going through. "Ya feel like you can't escape the sadness and ya feel terrible for hating yourself over something you couldn't control, but it's still," he paused, his voice trembling ever so slightly, "the guilt's still there and it won't go. But if you let it build up, you'll end up like me, breakin' down in front of someone, humiliatin' yourself. I know I hurt you that day Dean," he ventured, recalling his breakdown when he first caught sight of the river, "I messed up our acquaintance within three days of bein' here. But you forgave me, even with all the terrible things I said. So forgive yourself, 'cause you couldn't control your accident."

Dean felt his eyes sting at Castiel's surprisingly personal words and stood for a moment, processing everything that he had just been told. But his friend was right, he would never get past the fact he was now one arm short without speaking of it. "I still feel it," he said flatly after a few moments of heavy silence, trying to keep his voice steady. "I don't know why, or how, but when it pains me, I feel it all the way down my arm, and it isn't even there to hurt."

Castiel felt his heart sink into saddened sympathy at Dean's confession, and nodded to show he was listening. "I just don't wanna think about how people'll look at me different, stare at me when I'm in town. I don't wanna be dependin' on other people but now it's impossible not to be." Dean continued, admitting his deepest fear of depending on others ironically to the man he had depended on for the past two months. It was simply that, after Sam had died upon the trail under someone else's care, Dean had always been extremely adverse to the idea of anyone doing anything  _for_ him. If an important, crucial job needed to be done, he could only trust himself to do it, for in his grief scarred mind, if he didn't at least supervise, something was bound to go wrong.

Castiel, for the briefest of moments, saw the depth and weight of the grief Dean truly held flicker across the farmer's face before it was tamped down to a manageable level again. "Dean," he replied softly, truly at a loss for what exactly he could say. "You're doin' so well with improving what you do every day. You'll learn how to be independent again, you're certainly strong enough. Just take it one day at a time." Then, after a moment of hesitation, Castiel took a breath, choosing his next words with precise care. "I'll be here for ya 'till next spring. By then, I'm thinkin' you'll have learned everything ya need to."

Dean gave the other man a hollow smile at the words, trying to show how grateful he was despite the empty feeling in his chest that still lingered, especially at the mention of Castiel leaving. However, he noticed as the blue-eyed man gave him a sad smile back, the darkness that seemed to permeate his every sense seemed lessened, if only just slightly.

"I think so," he agreed, taking a deep breath to quell his sense of slight panic at his vulnerability in the moment. "Thank ya." "You're welcome." Castiel responded quietly as he turned to exit the room, feeling slightly better that he had at least addressed the situation.

Dean watched Castiel turn to leave, and on an impulse, called out to him. "Wait, Cas," he said, clenching his fist at his side to subdue a sudden, horrible urge to reach up and feel the stubble decorating the other man's jaw line. "Make sure ya don't still feel bad about breakin' down when you were first here. I don't hold any grudge over that and you shouldn't hold any guilt."

Castiel gave Dean another, brighter smile at this, and nodded. "Alright." He replied, the silence stretching between them for a few moments, getting heavier with each passing second as he stared into the farmer's eyes, waiting for him to say anything more. When it was apparent they were both simply staring at each other for no definitive reason, Castiel felt a horrified blush creep up his neck and cleared his throat. "I'll go get breakfast," he muttered, turning quickly on his heel to prepare their first meal of the day.

Dean groaned when Castiel exited the room, squeezing his eyes shut at he quickly splashed some water over his face. He had to get himself under control, or he would drive away his friend with his strange urge to be closer. "Just push it down," he muttered to himself, wiping his features dry.

The breakfast was simple, consisting of eggs mixed with leftover green beans, toast with last year's preserves and coffee.

"That was good, thank ya." Dean said with a smile, feeling himself return to comfortable normalcy after the intimate conversation earlier as he finished his meal. Castiel nodded in welcome and cleared their plates, going to wash the meager amount of dishes he had made during the preparation. "Dr. Singer should be around today or tomorrow to take out the stitches," he commented as Dean rose to put away the cream and sugar.

Dean stiffened slightly at the mention, but simply continued his task after a moment. "Well, ya know where to find me," he answered, feeling poorly at how gruff the words had sounded. "Yeah." Castiel responded, expecting the reaction. "I'll be sure to get ya."

Donning his hat, Dean shot Castiel a smile, although he wasn't looking. "I'll be back by dinner." He informed, tone softer now. Then, at Castiel's nod, he left, the heat of the beginning summer instantly hitting him.

* * *

Bobby arrived later that afternoon, just as the sun reached its waning peak in the sky. Wiping at his brow, he tethered his horse to the front porch of the cabin, knowing he would only be visiting for half an hour, possibly even less.

Castiel had just finished cleaning up the dinner dishes when a knock sounded at the door. Looking up, he immediately moved to answer it, finding Dr. Singer standing on his doorstep, black bag in hand. Smiling easily at the man who had done so much to save Dean, Castiel stepped aside and let the kindly man in.

"Howdy," he offered. "Howdy." Bobby replied, always one to get right down to business. "How's Dean?" Castiel stopped his smile at the question, as to not seem strange and instead glanced towards the back door where Dean had just entered in from, a pail of fresh water in hand. "Good, I think. The sutures come out today, right?" Bobby nodded, eyes following Dean as he hefted the heavy pail, one-handed, up to the tall counter. "Yeah, it seems like that. Come on over to the table and grab a seat, Dean, we can do it here if ya like." Dean nodded before Castiel could respond and went to go sit in a nearby chair, Bobby not far behind. "This shouldn't be too painful, just a little pinching; much less than before." Bobby reassured, Dean humming in a gruff confirmation.

Castiel stepped forward as Dr. Singer began wiping off his instruments. "Do ya want me to get your bandage?" He asked, looking to Dean, who was already unbuttoning his shirt with practiced swiftness. At Dean's responding, seemingly ever-present nod, Castiel gently unwrapped the amputation site as he had for the past three weeks, finding the skin looking healthy and absent from all its previous swollen redness.

"It's healed up real nice." Bobby commented as he brought up his tweezers to the first slightly crude stitch upon the stump that used to be the farmer's arm. "Now just breath for me, it'll take less than ten minutes." "Alright." Dean responded, setting his jaw as Dr. Singer plucked up the first stitch with the tweezers, cut at its two sides, and removed the section. It was painful and caused the farmer to feel his absent arm more than ever before, but the sensation was much less intense than anything he had previously had to endure.

Looking up as the doctor continued the procedure, Dean met Castiel's eyes and gave him a shaky smile. "You alright?" Castiel found himself asking before even thinking about it. "Yeah, I'm fine." Dean answered, not allowing his tone to convey how much pain he was in from the simple slide of string against his still-sensitive, raw nerves. Castiel saw through the lie, but didn't betray the fact he knew, and instead returned Dean's earlier smile in a show of encouragement.

As Dr. Singer had predicted, the procedure had only taken ten minutes and soon Dean's arm was cleaned and bandaged once more, the stitches gone.

"Ya can take the bandage off in two days, just be sure all the bleedin' has stopped and the entry sites for the stitches have scabbed up. I'll be back one more time to check up on ya, possibly in a week or so." Bobby informed, standing as he gathered up his supplies.

Dean and Castiel rose in turn, the farmer stepping forward after buttoning up his shirt. "I never really got a chance to thank ya for everything you've done," he began, extending his hand to be met by a firm shake from Dr. Singer. "And I suppose you'll be needin' some payment." Bobby smiled shortly at the thanks, pausing in thought at the next question. "Well, most folks 'round here can't afford much in the way of money, so I usually just take whatever they can give.".

Dean nodded. "I've got a few dollars stashed away, it's not a problem," he responded, thinking back to the three dollars he had left after paying Gabriel for his help. Rising from his chair, Dean went to his room and fetched two dollars, hoping it would be sufficient; he didn't want to completely deplete his emergency funds.

Castiel stood in quiet conversation with Bobby until the farmer reemerged, coins in hand. "I hope this is enough." Dean said after a moment, holding out the money. Bobby took the payment, pocketing the money in the knowledge Dean wouldn't take it back if he tried. "Thank ya," he said, donning his hat. "That's more than enough."

Dean shook Dr. Singer's hand once more, uttering another quiet thanks before the kindly man exited out the front door. Castiel shifted his weight silently, watching the farmer for a moment before speaking. "How do ya feel?" Dean ignored a sudden jolt of pain in his wound as he turned to the other man, managing a convincing smile. "Fine, I should be fine." "Good." Castiel responded simply, stepping forward to re-tie Dean's sleeve.

"Thank ya." Dean said after a moment, meeting Castiel's blue eyes in such a way it made his stomach flutter with the intensity. No matter the strangeness of the prolonged looks, or the odd bond they had formed in the past months, Dean felt safe with Castiel by his side, the comfort an emotion he hadn't felt in an age. Little did he know, that although Castiel was still eager to get back home, the blue-eyed man secretly felt the same.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys so much for reading and reviewing on this story, your support is always so encouraging. In saying this, I would like to thank a very special reader who always leaves absolutely wonderful comments which motivate me every Friday to get out a new chapter. Their archive account is here ---> http://archiveofourown.org/users/Willbakefordean/pseuds/Willbakefordean
> 
> Anyhow, don't let me ramble here, just wanted to include a special thank you!


	17. Harvest

It had been three sweltering months, filled with work and development for both men since the stitches had been removed. Dean was slowly resurfacing from the depression that had pulled him under, and Castiel had found a small amount of peace and acceptance concerning Kate's death. Gabriel had stopped working on the farm two weeks after the stitches were gone, as Dean and Castiel could work together to run the farm successfully. It had been difficult, for both men, to find a balance for their strange feelings, but soon even these faded into a sense of routine and normalcy, and were ignored, save for the occasional overwhelm of them.

Presently, the men were preparing for the fall harvest. It was now late August and summer was to be over in a few short weeks, meaning the wheat, which stretched towards the sky in rich golden hues, was ready to be reaped.

"Now, ya have to cover up pretty good, cause if ya don't, you'll be itchin' for days." Dean reminded over breakfast, taking a sip of the much improved coffee set before him. Castiel listened closely, grabbing a fluffy curd of scrambled egg with his fork before responding. "That'll be tough, it's hot as all hell." Dean nodded with a frown. "It's always awful," he replied, finishing off the last of the delicious caramelized apples Castiel had experimented with that morning. "But now you're here, it'll go a lot quicker than before."

Castiel rose to clear their dishes, taking a deep breath of the humid, sticky air within the cabin. "Well, I'll be here through the rest of this year, better make good use of me," he joked, turning to wash the dishes as he had since day one.

Dean felt a dull jab of longing at the words, but instantly pushed it away, forcing himself to accept the inevitable fact that his friend would be leaving. "I'll be sure to," he answered, rising as well to grab his hat off the peg near the door. "Anyway, I'll go get the tools for harvestin'. Don't worry much about cookin' meals today, we can have that soup you made a couple of days ago.".

Castiel gave an affirmative hum, drying and placing away the last dish as he heard the front door close. Heading straight for his room, he opened his top dresser drawer and fished around in the bottom for a bit before he found what he was looking for: a shirt of Dean's he had been modifying for today's exact purpose. Dean had talked before about how the harvest would go, and in his many warnings about how clothing and covering up was crucial, Castiel had formed an idea. Surely, in using the sickle for cutting the wheat down, a hanging sleeve wouldn't be optimal, and in this thought, the blue-eyed man had worked on a solution. For the past week, while he had down time, he had tailored a shirt specifically to eliminate the hanging sleeve.

First, he had taken one of Dean's shirts whilst he was doing the laundry, and cut off most of the sleeve, leaving what he estimated was the short length of what was left of the farmer's arm. Then, after much exploration of his limited memories on the art of sewing and searching around the house for a needle and thread, he went to work on fusing the sleeve together. It had been extremely difficult at first, to control his fine motor skills, and he had quite a time with the multiple pinpricks of the needle into the flesh of his thumb. But, soon enough, he'd gotten a handle on the tedious task, and had most of it done. It didn't look neat, in fact nowhere near, but it functioned, and now all he had to do was add the last few stitches.

Sitting on his bed, Castiel draped the cotton fabric over his knee and took the modified sleeve in hand. Out through, then back in, steadily his needle worked over the last open piece until it was closed. Satisfied, he threaded the sharp object a few times into the material to form a knot, and tied it off, breaking the thin string with his teeth when he finished.

"Cas?" Dean called, entering in the house and hanging his hat as he always did. Getting no immediate response, he walked the short distance to the back of the house, knocking softly on his friend's door. "Cas, buddy, ya in there?"

Castiel opened the door, now dressed appropriately for the day in a white, long-sleeved shirt, jeans, boots, and his blue bandanna. "Howdy," he greeted. "Howdy." Dean replied with a smile, happy to finally be getting somewhere with the farm. "Are ya ready to head out? If we get an early start, we'll be done by dark." Castiel nodded. "Just call when ya need help with your shirt." He said, trying to keep himself neutral as to not embarrass Dean. It had been a while since he had begun helping the other man with his clothing, but it was still a sensitive subject for the farmer.

"Yeah." Dean said, trying not to let the words affect him as he turned and headed into his own room. By the time Dean called for him, Castiel had ensured everything was as perfect as it could be with the new shirt, nervousness rising in him at the possibility something wouldn't go smoothly. But there was no going back now. Taking a breath, the blue-eyed man headed for Dean's room, entering it to find the man in just his jeans and boots.

"I uh," Castiel began, his feelings for the other man overwhelming him for half a second as they did every once in a while, "I've got a shirt for you," he said, holding up the modified one for Dean to properly see. "I figured since we'd be doin' the harvestin', it wouldn't be good to have your sleeve off to the side, so I tried fixin' up this one," he explained, watching Dean's every expression carefully.

Dean looked to the shirt, which had been both clumsily and carefully crafted to fit over his absent arm. Feeling grateful tears sting at the back of his eyes, the farmer looked up to Castiel's worried face and smiled. "I don't know rightly what to say," he admitted, rubbing a self-conscious hand on the back of his neck. Castiel swallowed and looked down to the shirt hanging loosely from his hands. "I hoped I wasn't oversteppin'," he said after a moment, stepping across the room to help Dean shrug into the modified material. Dean shook his head. "Of course not, I'm just really grateful," he responded, buttoning his shirt after it was wrapped around his body. Surprisingly, it fit around his amputation perfectly, and left just enough room as to not irritate the newly healed skin.

"I just wanted to repay ya for everything you've done." Castiel said quietly as he tied Dean's bandanna around his neck, fingers brushing the tanned, slightly damp skin that lie at the juncture of the farmer's neck and shoulder. "You've done that more times I can count." Dean answered, feeling a sense of closeness between them he thought he'd only imagined before. But, no, there it was, substantial and real, the bond that had helped him immensely throughout his grief following his amputation. But no matter how comforting that bond was, it still remained disturbing in Dean's eyes, so he pushed it away as he was so sadly used to doing. "Let's get a move on, then," he said eventually.

Castiel nodded, ignoring the strange, heavy feel in the air that, this time, wasn't simple humidity. "Yeah, alright," he replied, following Dean out to the front room. Grabbing his hat, he placed it on his head with an affirming sense of normalcy, which broke the wrong feeling permeating the air around them.

It didn't take long before both he and Dean were standing out near the field, bandannas pulled up over their noses and mouths in preparation for the difficult harvest to come.

"I'll do the reapin' for a little while and you can start gatherin' up bushels. We can switch off in a bit, then break when we need to. Sound good?" Dean said, feeling back in his element with the work he loved. "Perfect." Castiel confirmed, already sweating under the sweltering confinement of his clothing.

Soon, Dean was sliding the sickle along the tall stalks of wheat, cutting them down with smooth, practiced efficiency as Castiel trailed behind, gathering the roughly textured plant into small, neat piles until they were done with half the field. Both men were sweating through their shirts and panting, trying to catch their breath through the thick humidity of the air.

"Never thought this'd be so difficult, ya made it sound easy." Castiel commented, leaning over to catch his breath from their quickly paced harvest. Dean wiped at his brow with the bottom end of his bandanna and took it down from around his nose and mouth, watching Castiel do the same before answering. "I always seem to forget how bad it can get out here," he admitted, licking his dry lips. "Should we break?" Castiel nodded eagerly, looking over to the water pump in the distance. "Yeah, I need a drink," he replied, weary feet already heading over to the water source, Dean not far behind.

Filling the tin cup that hung on the handle of the pump, Castiel handed it to the farmer first. "Oh, ya don't have to-" Dean began, cut off by Castiel shaking his head with a weary smile. "Thank ya, then." The farmer said, drinking down the liquid quickly before handing the tin back to his friend.

The break lasted about half an hour, until Dean noticed their shadows beginning to get long on the ground, signifying the day would soon be over. Summoning his strength gained from years of diligent work, he stood from the ground, ignoring a pang of pain at his shoulder. "So, ya wanna try your hand at reapin'?" Castiel stretched leisurely, pretending not to see the wince of pain that passed across Dean's face. He now knew that if his friend wished to talk about what he was going through with his amputation, he would.

"Yeah, it doesn't look too hard. Can't be worse than learnin' to cook," he joked, earning a bright smile from Dean. "That's true." Dean agreed, beckoning Castiel to follow him as he headed back towards the field. "Just go at it with smooth, wide strokes, don't let the resistance discourage ya, just keep with it," he instructed, watching as Castiel got a feel for the tool.

Listening intently, Castiel hefted the instrument in his hand, looking to see Dean motion encouragingly for him to try it. More comfortable with manual labor than anything else, the blue-eyed man got right to it, swinging the sharp blade with graceful movement across a small length of the crop. At first he felt comfortable with the adequate job he thought he had done, until he looked at the result of his work, which was choppy and rough, so unlike Dean's professional, smooth looking cuts. Confusion furrowing his brow, Castiel looked to Dean for explanation.

"Just try it again, you'll get the hang of it." The Winchester encouraged at the helpless look he was given. Castiel complied, trying once more, only to get the same result. Letting out a groan of slight frustration, he glared slightly at the tool in his hand before looking up to Dean for explanation.

Dean looked down to Castiel's hand positioning, and shook his head. "Just try a different hold, kinda angle it towards your wrist," he explained, watching as the blue-eyed man tried out what he was saying to no avail. Then, without thinking, Dean stepped forward. "Here, lemme just," he began, placing his hand over Castiel's to help the other man position his fingers, "try placin' your thumb over the top, and angling it right like this," he finished, not realizing how close he was until his chest brushed against Castiel's shoulder. Pausing as a panicked animal would in the face of danger, he looked up to his friend, finding his face impossibly close. Alarm bells instantly began sounding inhis mind, repeating loudly as he found himself caught up in the blue eyes before him.

Castiel listened as Dean instructed him and allowed himself to be helped, not thinking much of the manual re-positioning until he glanced at the farmer, finding him dangerously close. At first he felt comfortable with their proximity, until his brain caught up with his heart and halted him. "Thanks," he said, clearing his throat of nothing as Dean nodded quickly, stepping back as he was seemingly brought back by the utterance of gratitude. "So, yeah, just try that on for size." The farmer replied, face burning red. Luckily, he could attribute it to the heat, and nothing else.

Clenching his fist by his side to ground himself, Dean scolded himself internally, realizing just how uncomfortable he must have made Castiel; he would have to control himself. Maybe, he thought regrettably, it would be best when the blue-eyed man left that coming spring. It hurt to consider, but it was true, and he knew he must acknowledge it. "I'll do that." Castiel responded, averting his eyes as he tried the task again, finding it easier and smoother with the new position.

No words were spoken beyond that point, and soon, the sun setting behind the mountains on the horizon, the task was done.

"Thank goodness." Castiel said, his whole body worn from the day's work. He was so tired he didn't even feel like eating, instead simply wished to fall into bed and sleep for an age. Dean groaned in agreement, his amputation responding with a stab of pain that caused him to wince once more. "We're lucky I've got a guy who comes out here and takes the harvest off our hands to thresh and sell in town. Threshin' is a nightmare." Castiel nodded, mind reverting back to the complaints he heard from his father's friends during his childhood. "So I've heard. Wanna go in and get a bit of food?" Dean, at his stomach's answering growl, smiled. "Yeah, that sounds perfect."

The food was simple, just vegetable soup that Castiel had made a few nights before, but to the two men, it was wonderfully delicious upon their famished tongues.

"Would you like another?" Castiel asked once the bowls were scraped clean for the second time, to which Dean shook his head. "I think I might just go to bed. If ya want, you can leave the dishes for tomorrow mornin', they'll wait," he replied, standing as his every muscle protested with the movement. "No, I'll get it done now, it's not a problem." Castiel said with a strong smile, gathering up the dishes to go and wash them.

Dean watched Castiel for a few moments, feeling yet another swell of adoration course through him, which he quickly pushed away. Three times in one day to have these feelings rise up was simply wrong, and in knowing this, Dean's decision was set in stone: it would in fact be best for Castiel to leave in the spring.

"Good night," he bid after a few more moments of thought, heading to his room. "Good night, Dean." Castiel responded gently, too caught up in the mundane task of dishes to catch the saddened tone of the farmer's words.


	18. Cabin Fever

Castiel felt cooped up. Normally, during the long mid-western winters of his childhood, he could still go out on rides to herd the cattle from one place on the range to another; but now on the farm, he has very little to do but feed the animals, chop wood, and cook meals. Sighing, he settled down in the wicker arm-chair near the flaming stove, Dean close by to take advantage of the only heat source in the small cabin.

"How do ya get through these winters?" Castiel asked, tone exasperated as he turned to watch the snow, which was quickly turning to blizzard ferocity. Dean shrugged, settling back with a worn book he'd read what felt like hundreds of times over during the winters he'd endured. "Just waiting it out is what's best. I try to find ways to entertain myself," he said, glancing over at his guitar, which had sat untouched since his accident. "I used to play some tunes, and sometimes I'd make some mittens or a scarf." The farmer continued, trying not to let his saddened tone dominate his words. "But I guess now I'll just read this book, maybe try my hand at drawin'. I've got some old pencils lyin' around here somewhere, if you'd be wantin' to busy yourself that way."

Castiel nodded, catching the almost pained undertone of Dean's words when he spoke of what he used to be able to do. "Ya know, I only heard you play a few times," he ventured, looking up to the farmer, "but it was beautiful. I've gotta admit, I was kinda envious, watchin' you make all that nice music."

Dean looked up from his book once more, smiling gratefully at the sudden compliment. "Thank ya," he answered gently, eyes flicking back once more to the expensive instrument, an idea slowly coming to the front of his mind. "Hey, Cas, I can't play anymore," he began, "but I still know how to. If ya would be wantin' to learn, I can always teach you. It'll certainly eat up the hours.".

Looking up in surprise, Castiel found sincerity in Dean's expression. It must have taken a lot to talk about something he wasn't able to do anymore, and now to offer to teach someone else how to do so, was touching to say the least. "That would be really nice, actually." He responded with a broad, grateful smile. Dean returned the expression, feeling better about mentioning the sensitive topic he now saw Castiel was attune to. "Go on and grab it, we can start now if ya like."

Castiel did as requested and retrieved the wooden instrument, settling back in his chair adjacent to Dean. "Why don't ya try strummin' with your thumb, just go smoothly over all the strings from top to bottom." Dean suggested, watching as Castiel did so a bit awkwardly. Nonetheless, it was nice to finally hear the sound of his guitar again, even if it was a bit jarring. Smiling through the slightly jealous and self-piteous feeling that came over him, Dean watched as Castiel got the hang of strumming over the tightened strings. "That's real good."

Castiel beamed, finally having something to occupy his brain causing him to feel nearly giddy with happiness and entertainment. "Thank ya," he said eagerly, schooling his excitement slightly when he realized how it may make Dean feel to see someone else doing what he loved. "So," he continued, "what's next?" Dean thought back to when his father had first taught him with the old heirloom. "Well, I guess we should start with simple notes," he began, scooting forward on his chair so he could gesture more easily at the different parts of the guitar. "These are your frets," he said, pointing to the evenly spaced, slightly raised bars under the strings, "and they sorta guide you with the notes and such. If ya take your first three fingers, just press 'em into the chords in the first, second, and third fret, each on the first, second, and third string," he explained.

Castiel listened, slightly puzzled as he shifted his fingers around to a workable order. "Now press down on the strings, and strum those three strings." Dean continued to instruct, feeling the same sense of peace and release he had previously gotten from playing. Castiel nodded, brow furrowed in concentration as he tried moving his thumb along the taut strings. At first, it had sounded alright, but then the lovely sound fell into a dull, almost monotonous thunk. Dean chuckled softly, smiling truly for the first time in days. "That's alright, Cas, just try it again, but press harder up on the strings. It takes some practice, but you'll get the hang of it."

Castiel found himself smiling along with Dean, and concentrated on a more forceful press against the strings, which caused his fingernails to turn white with the pressure. Then, at his second try of the note, he found the soft, sweet sound coming smoothly, and strummed consistently on the note with the bright feeling of success rising in him.

Dean beamed in turn, his expression bright as he heard the soft music waft throughout the cool air of the cabin. "That's perfect," he said, eyes crinkling at the corners with the genuine smile Castiel had placed on his face. He seemed to be doing that a lot lately, if Dean thought about it. Castiel felt pride swell in his chest at the new-found hobby, and smiled. "Thank ya," he answered, silence stretching between them for a moment.

The lesson lasted most of the day, until Castiel's fingers were hurting and Dean's stomach was growling.

"Guess I should start on supper." Castiel commented, standing to go set the instrument in the corner. "Yeah, I'm gettin' a bit hungry myself." Dean replied, standing as Castiel placed the instrument back to rest in its designated corner.

Castiel nodded in agreement, considering his options. "I found this recipe earlier for pot pie, if you'll be willin' to wait a bit more for it to cook." Dean, mouth instantly watering at the prospect, licked his lips. "Yeah, I'll wait," he answered with a chuckle. "That sounds real nice. Can I do anythin' to help?" Castiel looked around the kitchen, considering Dean's limited options in the way of meal preparation. "Well, ya could make the crust. It's real simple, just crushin' up butter in flour till it's all mixed up.". Dean thought for a moment, figuring he would be able to do so. "Sure, any way I can help is fine."

Castiel gave Dean a smile and quickly got out all the ingredients, measuring them in a large bowl before setting it in front of the farmer. "You get a handle on that, I'll go get the vegetables from the root cellar." Dean looked outside at the mention of the cellar, finding the winds picking up the heavy snow violently. "Don't forget to use the rope, and bundle up," he reminded, slight worry knotting in his stomach as he began to crush the cool butter into the flour. Castiel nodded. "Of course," he responded, thinking of the various ropes they'd strung from place to place around the farm for navigation through the all too common blizzards.

Without another word between the two, Castiel went to the back room and placed on the heavy winter coat he had bought himself with the harvest money he could spare. They had made much more money than he'd ever expected. With Dean increasing his field to half an acre, the harvest had been a vast improvement from last year's, producing fifteen hefty bushels for them to sell. In the end, they had made one hundred and thirty dollars, splitting it fifty-fifty. Now, Castiel had enough money to last the rest of the winter and make the journey back home, and Dean had enough money to begin paying workers. It had all worked out perfectly, really, Castiel thought as he wrapped his scarf tightly about his throat.

"If I'm not back in ten minutes," Castiel said, his tone light and joking as he re-entered the main room, "just know I can't get that damn cellar door open." Dean let out a laugh and shook his head. "I'll have to get around to fixin' it this spring," he answered, opening his mouth to request Castiel's help with the task before he halted his words; his friend would be gone as soon as spring warmed the land enough to thaw the ground. Castiel noticed Dean's face fall, but decided not to ask about it, figuring the farmer was dwelling on his amputation once again and would want to do so silently. "I won't be long," he reassured, more serious this time as he grabbed a nearby lantern, stepping out into the cold dark a moment later.

He had been through his fair share of winter storms, but the ones plaguing the plains were the worst he had ever experienced. The wind instantly whipped around him, flinging frozen crystals of water harshly against his cheeks, each snowflake stinging the only part of his skin that wasn't covered. Squinting to try to see through the white swirling in front of him, the blue-eyed man grabbed for the rope and slowly trudged his way through the snow already on the ground before him.

"Damn, not even Henry's brave enough to come out of the barn." Castiel muttered to himself, already half-frozen fingers wrapping around the cellar handle. It took a few hearty tugs, but soon he had the door open and quickly descended the steps into the freezing dugout that held all the vegetables he needed for dinner. Hanging the lantern in the corner to light his gatherings, Castiel grabbed a large, empty jar and began filling it with the frozen vegetables. Carrots, celery, potatoes, corn, and peas soon occupied the large jar, filling it to the brim.

Satisfied, Castiel grabbed the cool cream and chicken fat from the corner and shoved both jars under his arm, leaving a free hand for the lantern. It was quite the task, getting up the steps and shutting the cellar door, but he worked diligently to complete the chore and was soon trudging back to the house, only able to guide his way by keeping his thigh brushing against the taut rope.

At a bang on the back door, Dean moved the completed dough off his lap and quickly strode to open the door, letting a very cold looking Castiel in. "Nearly got lost out there." Castiel gasped through his shivers, setting the items he had acquired down onto the empty kitchen table. Dean looked to Castiel, concern rising in his stomach. "Did ya? Maybe we shouldn't go out alone," he said, looking to his friend's reddened hands. "Here, why don't ya warm yourself for a few minutes before startin' dinner? It can wait."

Castiel had begun to refuse the kind offer, but at the sight of the warm, crackling fire in the belly of the stove, he nodded, sitting in his place by the heat source. "I hope this winter doesn't last too long." He commented, rubbing his hands together in a futile attempt to warm them. Dean nodded, going to light another lantern. "You and me both."

It took longer than he had expected but soon, Castiel found his fingers able to flex again. Rising from his chair, the blue-eyed man heated some oil in the skillet, following the recipe card closely as he sautéed the vegetables carefully, adding in the cream and chicken fat as a last step before he formed the pie shell in a shallow pan.

"It should be done soon enough." Castiel commented, filling the crust and covering it before placing it in the stove to cook. Dean gave Castiel a smile, watching him cook. "It smells real good," he complimented, settling back in his chair to wait. He didn't realize it, but within a few minutes into the waiting, he had fallen asleep, chin resting against his chest.

Castiel sat and watched the snow swirl outside for a while, keeping an eye on the meal as the scent of warm food filled the cold cabin. "So, do ya think it'll be a good plantin' season this comin' spri-" He began to ask, before he turned to catch sight of Dean, chest rising and falling with the deep, steady breath of sleep.

Although they didn't have much to do, winter still had its way of tiring a body out simply from the lack of activity, and currently, with the soft sound of Dean's intake of breath, it was showing.

Smiling softly despite himself, Castiel studied Dean's face, which was now free of the worry lines that normally plagued it. He looked... happy, sitting in that chair, sleeping with the warmth of the fire protecting him from the elements outside. Seeing him like this reminded Castiel of the hours after the amputation, when Dean laid in bed, passed out; when he had held the farmer's hand for some source of comfort.

At the memory, he expected his stomach to churn with the wrongness of it all but instead, Castiel found longing rise up in him, a sudden urge hitting him to go over and grab Dean's hand, to find comfort in it once more.

"Son of a bitch..." Castiel murmured to himself, thoroughly put off by his own disturbing thoughts as he tried to push them away as he always did. For some reason, in that moment, eyes trained on Dean's peacefully sleeping face, the emotion wouldn't go away, in fact it lingered, as if it was placing a permanent settlement on his heart.

"Dean, I think..." He continued, words barely audible even to his own ears as he dared to admit the one thing he had been avoiding the past nine months. "I think I may very well love you," he said, barely able to get the words out. But there they were, hanging in the air, falling upon Dean's sleep-deaf ears. Suddenly realizing exactly what he just said, Castiel nearly reeled back out of his chair, a wave of nausea and dizziness rolling over him. Had he really just said that? He must be absolutely  _insane_ with cabin fever. Or perhaps, he thought with another lurch of his stomach, he was simply insane all the time. It would certainly explain everything that had gone on in his thoughts concerning the other man.

However, Castiel didn't have much time to consider any other options for his horrifying confession before Dean was stirring, waking from his rather deep sleep. "Oh, didn't mean to fall asleep on ya." Dean said, rubbing a calloused hand over his sleep-weary features. "How's supper comin' along?" He asked, puzzled suddenly at the pale, almost shaking features of his friend. "Cas? Buddy? Ya alright there?".

Castiel shook himself of the feeling as best he could and gave Dean a tight-lipped smile, thinking up an excuse quickly. "Yeah, just thought I heard somethin' outside, like a wolf or somethin'," he responded, knowing the excuse was cheap. Dean looked in puzzlement to the front door, shaking his head. "Na, we don't get many of them around these parts. You've probably just got a bit of cabin fever, don't worry, it'll pass once spring rolls around.".

Castiel let out a breath, relieved his excuse hadn't been questioned. "Good to know," he replied, calming himself down as he checked the pie, finding it ready. "Wanna eat?" He asked shortly, wanting to forget completely what had just happened. Dean nodded, giving Castiel a smile. Whatever had truly been disturbing his friend, he was sure it would pass, and decided not to push the subject. If the other man had made up an excuse for his sudden decline in happiness, he obviously didn't wish to discuss it at that moment, and Dean wasn't one to pry and push. He only hoped Castiel was okay, because truly, it was all he wanted.


	19. Goodbye

Winter had come and gone, without much more difficulty from the weather. Dean had continued to teach Castiel how to play his guitar, and in just the short time, the other man had learned how to play many songs, which were all comforting to Dean. Sunshine had grown thinner over the winter, but now, with the grass just beginning to poke its brave, green head above the still-frosted ground, she was quickly fattening up once more. Dan and Charlie were as strong as ever, if a bit spoilt by the winter's rest they had. Castiel had successfully pushed away most of his feelings following his nearly silent confession, and had forced himself to forget the incident, which let him live a fairly normal life once again. Dean had now fully accepted having one arm, and could now dress fully on his own. He, too, had noticed an increase in his feelings while cooped up in the cabin by the harsh winter, but, like Castiel, had pushed the emotion away, and was able to live a normal life as well.

However, despite how happy Dean was to have winter over and done with, a regretful sadness had latched onto his heart ever since the first day green began sprouting from the ground, for he knew Castiel would soon be leaving. The blue-eyed man, on the first day that was warm enough to venture out, had gone to town and asked about wagon trains that were leaving back East. He had come back to the farm later that same day, beaming. Apparently, a party was leaving in three short weeks, and Castiel had found a man willing to take company on his wagon for the price of three dollars. Knowing he could spare such a fee to gain a way to travel and have food on the road, Castiel had readily agreed and quickly shared the news with Dean, who had responded with happiness despite the slow crumbling of his lonely heart.

Dean had made the most of the three weeks Castiel had left to spend on the farm, and on their last Sunday together, they had even taken Dan and Charlie for a leisurely ride around the property. It had been nice, to spend recreational time with the other man, and almost made Dean wish he had done it more often.

But, all the wishing in the world couldn't prevent the day Castiel would be leaving from creeping up, and now, it had come. Lying in bed, Dean stared up at his ceiling, trying to push away the deep ache in his chest; it would only make everything harder when he had to watch Castiel climb up onto that wagon and leave forever. The trip was far too long to ever visit, he knew, and after his friend was gone, Dean would never see him again. In short, it hurt immensely.

Sighing shakily as he tried to collect himself, Dean sat up and climbed out of bed, dressing slowly as if his pace could somehow put off what he knew was coming in just a few short hours.

Castiel was currently in the kitchen, ladling pancake batter into a hot, greased skillet at he had done on the first day of his arrival. It was bittersweet, leaving the farm. On one hand, he was eager to get back home and figure a way to get his life back on track, but on the other hand he felt saddened at leaving Dean. But, he knew it was for the best, before his inappropriate feelings got anymore out of hand than they already had.

"Mornin'." Dean greeted as he entered the kitchen, placing on a cheerful expression. However, this happy look didn't last long when he caught scent of what Castiel was cooking, which brought back memories of his friend's first day in the kitchen. Funny thing, that the blue-eyed man would choose to cook Dean's favorite breakfast on his first and last day here.

Castiel didn't turn from his cooking, but still responded as a smile spread across his face. "Mornin', Dean. How'd ya sleep?"

"Good." Dean lied, not letting on that he'd barely gotten a wink the night previous.

"That's good." Castiel responded as he always had, finishing up the last cake. Serving up the plates, he set Dean's before him, piled high with piping hot pancakes, which were slathered in butter and syrup.

"This looks delicious, thank you." Dean said as he always had, placing the happy expression back on his face as he dug in to the vastly improved meal. "Damn Cas, you've really gotten good at cookin'." He complimented after swallowing the first sweet mouthful.

Castiel flushed slightly at the compliment, smiling. "Thank ya, Dean. If it hadn't been for those recipe cards you got me, I think we'd still be eatin' horrible pancakes."

Dean found himself chuckling despite the ever-present pit in his stomach. "They weren't that bad." He said lightly, shrugging. "How could you have known any better?"

Castiel nodded, finishing off his second pancake. "Yeah, that's true." He responded, reaching for the coffee pitcher to refill Dean's cup. "So," he said after a stretch of silence between them, "today's the day."

Dean, despite his best efforts to keep a happy façade, felt his expression fall. "Yeah, I guess it is." He responded, looking down to his meal.

Castiel caught the saddened look Dean suddenly took on, and felt himself grow saddened as well. Dean had been so good to him in the past year, and had grown to be his best friend, so leaving him was in no way pleasant, despite his excitement to finally be back home. "We'll still be able to write letters and send telegrams." He reassured, as if the simple solution would remedy the now hurt filled air between them. It didn't, but it did cause Dean to smile ever so slightly.

"Yeah, that's the good thing." The farmer responded, finishing up his plate at a slower pace than he usually would, as he was subconsciously putting off the inevitable.

"Well," Castiel said with a sigh, rising to gather their dishes, "I guess I'll do the dishes, and we can be off. They're leavin' in two hours." He reminded, rubbing the wash cloth over their plates.

Dean rose as well, nodding. "You've got everything packed up?" He asked, donning his hat.

Castiel placed the last plate on the stack before responding. "Yeah, just gotta clean my room a bit."

Dean took a breath at the finality of his words. "Sounds good. I'll go hook up the wagon and meet ya out front in about twenty minutes."

Castiel gave Dean an affirmative smile and watched as the farmer left. Then, as soon as the door closed, he headed for his room.

"I'll miss this." He murmured to himself as he stood in the doorway, looking over his temporary home with a fondness one only gained after months of living in one space. Sighing, he went to make up his bed, the task only taking a few minutes before he set about dusting his furniture and refilling the kerosene in the lamp on his bed side. All too soon, he finished, and forced himself to pick up the cheap suitcase he had purchased to hold his small amount of possessions.

"Goodbye." He whispered, rubbing a hand over his face before he headed out to the front, finding the farmer standing by the wagon, looking lonely. It hurt to finally see the expression open and vulnerable on Dean's face, but Castiel knew he had to leave. So, gathering his strength, he walked out of the cabin and loaded his suitcase onto the wagon, turning to his friend when he was finished.

"So, I'm thinkin' we won't have much time to talk once you get to town, it'll probably be too busy and hectic," Dean began, meeting Castiel's eyes as he tried to mask the lonely pain that was slowly making its way into his own, "so I guess this is goodbye."

The words hit Castiel like a ton of bricks, causing tears to sting the back of his eyes suddenly. "I guess it is." He responded, keeping himself together surprisingly well.

Dean nodded shortly, silence growing heavy between them with each passing second as they simply stood. "So," he said, beckoning Castiel to the back of the wagon, "I thought this might be a good sort of goin' away gift." He continued, revealing his guitar lying in the bed of the cart. "Ya know, I won't be able to use it, and you've learned so much..." He shrugged, blinking to keep the tears from his eyes that he so desperately wanted to avoid. "It'll definitely keep ya in good company during your trip."

Castiel felt his throat tighten at the gesture, and gave Dean a soft, sad smile. "Dean, I can't thank ya enough... For everything."

Dean shook his head, letting out a breathy, saddened chuckle. "You've done more than enough to thank me, Cas. I can only wish ya the best now."

Castiel nodded, holding out his hand with an air of finality that crushed the remaining strength Dean was attempting to hold onto.

Feeling his eyes go misty with the tears he could no longer stave off, Dean grasped Castiel's hand in a firm shake, squeezing the now work-roughened palm of his friend, looking into the blue eyes he had dreamed about too many times to count. And no matter how sick it was, no matter how wrong he felt for it, in that moment Dean felt no regrets, and instead felt complete and whole, his hand wrapped in Castiel's.

"Goodbye, Dean." Castiel said with a brave smile, despite the fact he, too, was close to tearing up.

Dean let go of Castiel's hand the instant the words slipped out of the other man's mouth. He couldn't handle it, couldn't handle the loneliness that was now crashing back into him full force, worse than ever before now he was losing his best friend to the call of home. "Please don't go." The farmer found himself choking out before he could think.

Castiel looked to Dean, his blue-eyed expression both puzzled and understanding, saddened and resigned. "Dean, I have to go." He nearly whispered.

Dean met Castiel's eyes, shaking his head. "You don't-" He began, voice breaking on the second word. Then, in a frustrated decision he never would have thought he'd make, stepped forward swiftly, crowding into the other man's space, heart pounding.

"Dean, what-" Castiel began, sucking in a gasp of utter and complete surprise when Dean's dry, chapped lips were suddenly pressed to his, stubble rubbing against his chin in strange sensation. At first, he melted into the soft expression of love, until his brain once again caught up with his heart, stopping him in his tracks. Stepping back, shock and horror on his face to now mirror Dean's, he shook his head, speechless. "Dean, I- No." And, with the single, heart wrenching syllable, he turned and walked quickly off, to where he wasn't sure. He just had to get away, had to stop thinking about how amazing it had felt, had to focus on the wrongness of it all. He wasn't insane, he wasn't...

Dean surprised even himself with the sudden show of absolutely inappropriate affection, but in that moment, his lips pressed to Castiel's, tasting syrup and coffee, all his sadness had melted away, all his loneliness had been absolved. However, when the three seconds had passed, when Castiel stepped back, when he had opened his eyes to see his own feelings of fear and horror mirrored on his friend's face, all the horrible emotions were back, worse than ever. "Cas, wait, I'm-" He began, not able to get the words out before Castiel was walking away. Anguish and dread overwhelming him, Dean dropped to his knees, not recognizing the pain as disgusted tears blinded him. He truly was absolutely insane, and worse now, he had lost his best friend over his own horrible feelings. In fact, he was so caught up with the negatives of the situation, he didn't recall the way Castiel had pressed back into the kiss for those few crucial seconds.

Castiel soon found himself out by the barn, mind reeling as his eyes filled with tears. How could this have happened? Did Dean have these disgusting feelings for as long as he had? So many questions filled his brain, it was difficult to sort them all into a clear thought process. Giving up on any sort of rational explanation he could hope to figure out, Castiel slumped against the outside wall of the barn, burying his face in his hands. This changed everything, simply because of the fact he had enjoyed the kiss. He had tried so damn hard to push away his feelings, to render them invalid, but it obviously had all been for nothing. Bringing a shaking finger up to brush against his lips, he felt both sick and elated, both disgusted and pleased. No matter his previous efforts, he could now no longer deny his feelings: He loved Dean Winchester. Little did he know, Dean had come to the same conclusion, kneeling in the dirt beside the unmoving wagon.

* * *

He had to go talk to Castiel. It was horrible to think about, because in this, he knew he would have to confront and admit his feelings for the other man, but he couldn't make Castiel miss his wagon train simply because of his own foolish act. Rising from the ground, Dean winced as his now bruised knees complained with the movement.

"Just stay here for a little bit." He told Dan and Charlie, giving them both a half-hearted pat on their necks before he ventured off in the direction Castiel had gone off to. He walked slowly, not wanting to face the probably angry, cursing reaction he would find waiting for him. But, he thought to himself, it didn't matter what happened now, for nothing could be worse than the sinking feeling in him at Castiel's singular, monotonous syllable of 'no'. It didn't take long before the Winchester spotted his friend's silhouette against the outside of the barn, the sight only causing his chest to twist even more uncomfortably in his grief as he approached the other man.

"Cas..." He said softly, his voice far stronger than he would have expected as he stopped in front of the man he apparently loved.

Castiel looked up, dread and trepidation rising in him at Dean's figure before him. If he was completely honest, he didn't know how to react. On one hand, he wanted to continue denying everything he now knew, wanted to prove to himself he wasn't insane, but on the other hand he wanted nothing more than to press his lips to Dean's once more, to show the farmer his bold gesture hadn't gone with the dusty wind. Taking a breath, he forced himself to make a decision, meeting the farmer's green eyes for a long moment before responding.

"Hello, Dean."


	20. Free

Dean nearly broke down at Castiel's greeting, which had stayed consistent since the first day the blue-eyed man had arrived. "I-" The farmer began, rubbing his hand on the back of his neck as he looked down to his boots. "There's nothin' I can say. I know I'm sorry."

Castiel stared for a long while, hesitation and trepidation still surrounding the decision he had made not five seconds previous. "Don't be sorry," he said softly, hands trembling by his sides. Dean looked up in surprise, still extremely uncomfortable with the situation. "You'll uh, miss your wagon train if ya don't leave now," he reminded, not able to think of anything else. Of course Castiel told him not to be sorry, he was too nice to curse at him five minutes before his departure.

Castiel stood for a long while, unmoving and silent as his eyes bore into Dean. "You asked me not to go." Dean shook his head, trying to keep himself together as guilt overwhelmed him. "That was... Look, I'm messed up, alright Cas? I'm sick and I can't expect ya to stay on account of tryin' to help me outta bein' insane or somethin'. You need to go home, it'll be better for the both of us," he said, hating the truth in his own words.

Castiel bit the inside of his cheek. "I guess we're both insane then," he admitted, hating himself for it. "And 'cause of that, I'm not leavin'. I just need space to figure this out, I can't-" his voice broke, "I can't talk to ya right now."

Dean nearly let out a sob at Castiel's response, of both relief and sadness. If the other man felt the same, if he wasn't leaving, then why couldn't they talk? But seeing how impulsive the kiss had been, Dean was sure it would jar anyone. Perhaps it would be good for both of them to separate for a while. "Yeah." The farmer replied, tugging at his bandanna self-consciously. "I've gotta go do work in the field anyway. I'm guessin' I'll be back by dinner.".

Castiel gave a barely detectable nod. "I'll take care of the wagon," he informed, unable to look at the broken man before him any longer. So, as feelings of conflicted happiness and shame washed over his every nerve, he turned, heading away from the farmer he loved.

Dean, again, watched Castiel walk off. Unable to look anymore, the Winchester turned and headed towards the field, his legs still as rubbery as they had been at the beginning of the conversation.

As Castiel unhitched the horses, he slowed his breathing, trying to do anything to collect himself from the events that had just transpired. He  _had_ made a decision, the decision to stay. But in respects to the decision about his feelings towards Dean, he remained hesitant. Not only did he have, acknowledge, and accept his feelings for another man, he had also lost Kate a year ago, nearly to the day. Although she was gone now and he accepted her death, it still felt as if he was betraying her by wanting to find comfort in the arms of another, a man no less.

Despite his conflicting memories of Kate and present thoughts of Dean, the kiss dominated his every other thought. That hadn't been just a simple kiss driven by the haunting desires of the flesh, no, in fact it had been the most meaningful kiss of Castiel's life. Conveyed from Dean's slightly chapped lips had been frustration, empathy, gratefulness, sadness, pain, longing, anguish, admiration, and most prominently, love. Through the simple press of lips, Castiel felt as if he had been told the farmer's entire life story, from beginning to end. He saw the struggle, the grief, but also saw the joy and the love that had dominated the Winchester's entire life. But most importantly, Castiel felt not only the farmer's past, but his hopes for the future.

Shaking himself from his thoughts, Castiel realized that, in his return of the kiss that lasted mere seconds, he had also felt hope surge deep within him. And just like that, with the simple analysis of a pair of lips pressed against his, the blue-eyed man had made his decision: he would love the farmer, insanity be damned.

Sighing heavily, Castiel made his way over to the water pump just outside the barn and splashed some of the cool liquid over his face, taking but a moment to glance over to Dean's barely visible form on the horizon before he turned to head back into the house; it would be a normal workday, it seemed.

When he arrived back at the cabin, Castiel set his belongings back in his room, the guitar now sitting on his bed as a near constant reminder of Dean's earlier gesture, right before- No, he wouldn't think about that now.

Exiting his room, the blue-eyed man set about cleaning the house. He hadn't done a proper spring cleaning yet, and if any time was appropriate, it was now, when he could bury his thoughts and feelings in a frenzy of work. Grabbing the broom, Castiel began sweeping the quickly accumulating dirt on the wooden floors, moving it all out the slightly ajar back door. After he had completed the simple task, he quickly went about clearing up any clutter in the cabinets and few rooms, leaving only Dean's untouched. He didn't want to think about anything having to do with the farmer, at least not at the moment.

However, despite this wish to remain busy, the cabin hadn't needed much cleaning and all too soon Castiel found himself sitting alone in the kitchen, leg bouncing as he waited for Dean to return for dinner, which consisted of a few leftover biscuits and coffee.

Dean entered half an hour later, not saying 'howdy' for the first time Castiel could remember. "I just got out some biscuits and coffee, figured it would be alright 'cause of the big breakfast." Castiel explained quietly, the air between them thick with hesitation as Dean sat quietly.

"Why'd ya say no if ya feel the same way I do?" Dean asked suddenly. The words hit Castiel heavily, causing him to pause for thought before answering. "I- Dean, it was so sudden, I didn't know how to react. It all seems strange."

Dean nodded, face falling with what he knew was the truth as he grabbed some food. He wasn't hungry in the slightest, but if he was to be out in the field the rest of the day, he should eat. "I know," he replied, forcing the admittedly delicious quick bread down into his tight, knotted stomach. "And that's why we can't. I know I've got these," he paused, looking up to judge Castiel's reaction, "feelings for ya and you have them for me, but we can't act on 'em, not like that, not again. It's not natural and I'm sorry for how I acted. I wasn't thinkin'."

Castiel nodded numbly, knowing Dean was right. But somehow, he didn't want to accept it, something in him was fighting back. "Dean," he began, wanting to scream at the farmer how he didn't care how wrong it was, because damn it, they'd been through too much to just throw this opportunity of comfort to the wind. However, instead of these thoughts slipping out, he simply met the farmer's eyes despite the pain coiling in his chest. "You're right." He relented, seeing his earlier decision to love Dean didn't matter, now that the farmer had reconsidered his own choices.

Dean finished his dinner and licked his lips of any spare crumbs, unable to meet Castiel's pained eyes. His own probably looked worse, considering how, for the other man's sake, for their friendship's sake, he was burying his every urge and impulse to find companionship with the one person he'd ever found he loved.

"So, we can just forget about it." Dean reassured, almost to himself as he rose and turned to grab his hat. "I'll be in the fields 'till supper." Castiel nodded mutely, pointedly looking anywhere to fend off the tears threatening at the back of his eyes. However, when he looked up to watch Dean leave, he noticed the shirt the farmer was wearing for the first time that day, the shirt he had tailored specifically for the harvest.

And just like that, all the memories of the past year came flooding back, reminding him of exactly why he had begun to love the farmer standing before him. Dean had done much more than give him a job and a place to live; Dean had, in fact, helped him through his grief over Kate, simply by being a constant, understanding presence beside him. And in this, Castiel had found comfort, comfort he couldn't simply forget as Dean had suggested.

"Wait, Dean." Dean turned, hope and dread rising at the same time within him, crowding in his chest uncomfortably. "Yeah?"

Castiel, in a move spurred by his earlier decision in the barn, continued to walk forward until he was standing directly in front of Dean, the farmer's eyes watching him intently. "Please don't go," he said, placing a strong hand on the other man's good shoulder.

Dean, despite the conversation they'd just had, found his resolve break with his own words repeated back to him from earlier, and instantly realized that no matter how much he'd tried to deny it, the love had always been there and it now remained present, stronger than ever. So, in a move that felt somehow bolder than even his earlier actions, Dean moved forward and pulled Castiel close to him, hand shaking to match the erratic pounding of his heart.

Castiel instantly responded, wrapping his arms around Dean's torso. Instantly, the strong scent of grass and clean earth surrounded him as he rested his head, finally, against the farmer's chest, warmth winding its way into his body for the first time in months.

"If this is insanity," Dean dared to murmur after a long while, bravely resting his cheek against Castiel's softly mussed hair, "I don't wanna be in my right mind.".

At the words, Castiel couldn't control himself any longer and relented, tears slipping down his cheeks as he let go of all the self-hatred and disgust he had been harboring for the past year due to his feelings for Dean. It still felt strange, to be close to another man, for years of bigotry were still present in his mind, but at the same time he felt comforted.

Leaning gently against the farmer that had given him so much, Castiel let out a shuddering breath, hand coming up to let his fingers stroke at the back of Dean's neck. "I'm willin' to work with this." He eventually said, breaking the reverent silence surrounding them. Dean nodded gently, fingers curling gently into Castiel's back. "Me too," he responded, ducking his head to bury it in the soft crook of the other man's shoulder.

The pair stayed like that for a long while, the natural break in their prolonged hug not coming quickly as they subconsciously made up for months of unspoken longing.

"Cas?" Dean asked, breaking the silence as he looked carefully into the blue eyes that had once haunted him. Castiel glanced up, his heart picking up speed once more with the remnants of his hesitation. "Yeah?" Dean paused, eyes flicked down to the other man's lips. "Can I kiss you?"

Without answering verbally, Castiel took a deep breath and leaned up ever so slightly, pressing his lips to Dean's in a soft, extremely hesitant, chaste kiss, finally thanking the farmer properly for everything he had done. Dean let out a soft breath at Castiel's response, cupping the other man's stubble covered cheek in a silent moment of reverence as they parted, foreheads resting together carefully as they continued to dance around each other with the new situation.

"I've still gotta get my work done in the fields." Dean said softly after a while with a gentle chuckle, a grin breaking over his face. Castiel nodded, reaching down to squeeze Dean's hand as he gave the other man space. "Before ya go... Thank you," he said softly, finding his fingers still shaking ever so slightly. "For what?" Dean asked, never more grateful to still have use of his present arm than in that moment. "For not lettin' me leave today." Castiel replied, averting his gaze for half a second. "I didn't know it this mornin'," he continued, hesitating heavily on his next words, "but I need ya. If I had left..." He shook his head, not wanting to think about it.

Dean looked to Castiel, eyes softening at the sight of the previously broken, now healed man before him. "I need ya too," he murmured, stepping forward to lean down and gently press a kiss to the other man's forehead. "You made it so I wasn't so lonely. Before ya came here, I was so alone, and now you've given me more than any man deserves."

Castiel felt his eyes sting at the admittance, joy the cause of his tears for the first time in the past year. Finally, he felt loved once again, the hole in his heart finally filled. For although it had been a difficult, heart wrenching process, he knew no matter how the bond had formed, it had become an unbreakable connection, one he wouldn't have to question any longer. He felt free.


	21. Thin Walls

Although the situation was new and unpredictable, Castiel's sense of freedom and Dean's sense of companionship didn't fade. Instead, throughout the rest of their day, Castiel working in the house while Dean toiled in the fields, their acceptance was only reinforced.

Wiping a hand over his face, Castiel stepped back from preparing supper. He had finished his whole day's work early with his new-found vigor and in the haste, had completed their nightly meal an hour before Dean was due back in. Yawning, the man turned his blue eyes to the back of the house, where his bedroom door laid ajar, revealing the tempting sight of his neatly made bed. It had been a trying day, with all the new discoveries concerning Dean. He did have extra time, he rationalized as his feet carried him to the room seemingly out of their own volition. He would wake when Dean made his way back into the cabin, anyhow. Removing his boots, Castiel curled up on top of his comforter, the cooling breeze from his slightly open, adjacent window lulling him into a quick nap.

Dean took a moment to catch his breath, wiping his bandanna across his uncomfortably perspiring face. It had been spring for less than a month and the heat had already made its strangling way into the valley. Shaking his head under the slightly cooling shade his hat provided, the farmer grabbed his hoe from the dry earth and began the short trek back to the barn, thoughts turning to Castiel as they always seemed to.

The morning, to put it simply, had been unexpected. Even in his wildest dreams, he would've never considered it happening and now here it was: he was in love with another man, who reciprocated the feeling. Dean didn't truly know what the driving force behind their almost natural seeming progression from friends to lovers was, whether it was the pain they endured together, or their mutual loneliness, but whatever it was, he was ready to accept it. And accept it he did, with a happy heart and a light smile he hadn't felt since before his accident. He wasn't alone, he wasn't without his best friend, and he didn't have to hire anyone he would feel uncomfortable trusting. In short, it was perfect.

Catching a smile spreading across his face, Dean didn't have the heart to wipe off the almost goofy feeling expression and set the farming tool just inside the barn door when he arrived. It was almost supper time, and he was eager to see Castiel, especially after their close, chaste encounter at dinner. Pitching hay with now little difficulty into the horses stalls, the farmer checked the latches upon the gates before exiting the slightly cooler space to head for the cabin.

The path, although unchanging from the thousands of other times he'd taken it, seemed longer this time, almost as if delaying his time to seeing Castiel. But, he reminded himself as he neared his front door, waiting always seemed longer when there was reward at the end. And oh, the reward this time was better than anything Dean could have imagined.

Stepping into the darker space, Dean took off his hat and set it on the peg near the door, fully expecting to turn and see Castiel plating up their supper as he always was. But, instead, he saw their meal warming on the stove, the house quiet with the other man nowhere to be found. Eyebrows pulling together in slight puzzlement, Dean glanced out back, finding Castiel wasn't near the water pump either.

"Cas?" He called softly, making his way to the back of the house where the blue-eyed man's door laid open. "C-" Dean said once more, halting his words when his gaze fell upon the form in front of him. There Castiel lay, legs curled up ever so slightly to match his arms, which rested close to his chest that was rising and falling with deep, sleep slowed breaths.

"Tired?" Dean whispered, barely audible in his tone as he leaned against the door frame, a soft smile tugging at the corner of his lips as he recalled the first time he had caught Castiel like this. It had been the other man's first day, and while Dean was out tending to the horses he'd agreed to have a rest. However, when the farmer returned, he found Castiel asleep. At the time, instead of waking the man, Dean had simply gone out to the living room, feeling sympathy spread through his body as he thought of Castiel's circumstances. He hadn't thought much about it then, but now, looking back, Dean realized his quickness to sympathize and desire to help Castiel had been borne of love; a quick developing, profound, crazy love that had taken him a year to accept.

However, now that he accepted it, he didn't have to keep his distance. Eyes falling softly upon Castiel's peaceful face in this realization, Dean walked silently across the room and sat softly on the other man's bed, the mattress dipping ever so slightly under his weight.

"Cas?" He murmured softly, reaching up his fingers, which wanted to tremble, to his friend's stubble covered cheek, stroking the surprisingly soft, fine hair gently. "Hey, rise an' shine." Castiel vaguely felt a soft presence dip the bed near him, but in his sleepy state, didn't wake fully and slipped back into the comfortable world of his own mind. However, at the slightly rough, calloused fingers stroking upon his cheek, the man opened his blue eyes softly, just in time to hear Dean's soft accent urge him to join the world of the conscious.

Stopping the rush of nerves that coursed through him at the new proximity, Castiel smiled and looked up to Dean's gentle face. "Sorry, I thought I'd wake just by the sound of ya comin' in," he admitted, leaning into the farmer's touch carefully. Dean maneuvered his hand to cup Castiel's cheek fully, meeting the blue eyes before him with a barely there smile. "That's alright. I just thought ya might like to eat that delicious meal ya made."

Castiel sighed in contentment, stretching ever so slightly as he nodded, Dean's hand against his cheek sending a comforting and somehow new warmth to rush through him. "Yeah, I'm mighty hungry now," he answered, clearing his throat of the sleepy roughness. Dean stroked his thumb along Castiel's cheek in careful reverence and stood. "I'll go serve it up, ya stay here and wake up a bit," he offered, hesitating for but a moment before he bent down and pressed his lips to the other man's forehead.

Castiel nodded and watched the other man go, sitting in slightly stunned silence for a minute. They seemed so easy and natural, their interactions now. In fact, instead of feeling discomfort linger at the back of his mind with their most recent exchange, Castiel instead felt warmth and contentment, along with something else he didn't bother to identify at the moment. All that mattered now was he had Dean and Dean had him, and everything seemed somehow right in the world.

Pulling on his boots out of simple, respectful habit, Castiel made his way out to the kitchen, finding Dean just finishing placing the meal on the table. Sitting at his place, the blue-eyed man watched Dean sit, giving him a soft smile. "Thank ya, this looks delicious." Dean commented, the words now somewhat of a tradition at their suppers.

Although it had been said more often than not in the past year, Castiel found genuine gratefulness in Dean's tone and eyes each time the sentence slipped from his lips, the words never failing to cause a flush to burn over his neck. "Thank ya," He responded softly. Dean smiled as he dug into the meal of corn bread and grilled chicken, letting out a soft hum at the taste of his favorite bread. "So," he began, wiping at the corner of his mouth before continuing, "it looks like it'll be a fairly dry year. If there's not enough rain for the crops, we might have to take three or four hours every day cartin' water over to the field."

Castiel listened to the conversation topic as he swallowed a small bite of chicken, nodding thoughtfully. "I hope it doesn't come to that but if it does, we can always get it done. Hirin' people on a day's wage wouldn't be a bad option either, if it got real dry."

Dean listened carefully, hiding his trepidation at hiring others. He only hired Gabriel because he had known him for a while, and only approached Castiel because empathy and desperation won over his hesitant side. But, the other man did have a point, they couldn't possibly haul water each day and expect to run the rest of the property. "Yeah, I may have to think about doin' that," he responded, finishing up his meal not long after as comfortable silence surrounded them.

It was always like this. They didn't need to have unnecessary conversation fillers between them to feel happy in each other's company, and instead said what had to be said and left it at that, both content to listen to the gentle, barely detectable scraping of forks against flatware.

"You look tired, ya should get to bed." Castiel commented, knowing how hard Dean worked that day simply by the far off look in his eye when he stared at nothing in particular. "Yeah, I think I might." Dean responded, watching for a few minutes as Castiel went about his routine of clearing up the table, wiping down the counters, and finally, turning to do dishes.

Rising from his chair, the farmer went around the cabin and lit the few lanterns, a soft, familiar orange glow falling over the previously shadowed furniture. Turning from his task as he blew out the small flame of the match, Dean's eyes caught upon Castiel, head bent over the wash basin as he scrubbed at a particularly stubborn spot on the skillet. He must've seen this exact moment a few hundred times within the past year, but now, it caused Dean's stomach to flutter pleasantly. Lips turning up into a soft smile that caused very slight wrinkles to show at the outer corners of his eyes, the farmer walked over as Castiel finished the last dish.

Placing his hand on the other man's forearm, Dean gently moved closer, still going slow as to not move too quickly for either of their comfort levels. "I thought you were goin' to bed." Castiel said softly, still just as happy to turn and face the farmer, his back now resting against the kitchen counter. "I couldn't go without sayin' goodnight, could I?" Dean countered, eyes searching the other man's face for any inclination he was too close. Castiel nodded, licking his lips subconsciously.

Dean, detecting no uncomfortable resistance from both Castiel and himself, leaned forward and pressed his lips ever so gently against the other man's, the feeling new and exciting, yet at the same time old and calming. Castiel leaned back up into the kiss, suddenly finding an unidentified urge within himself to deepen the chaste kiss.

Tilting his head slightly, he took Dean's lower lip between his, tasting the farmer for the first time, as all their earlier kisses had been dry, chaste brushes of lips. However, now, with Dean responding in kind to the more intimate gesture, Castiel could detect sweet cornbread and coffee between the other man's lips, along with a clean, almost water-like hint of coolness, something he figured must've been Dean's unique taste.

At the unexpected but not unwelcome deepening of their kiss, Dean moved his hand from Castiel's forearm to around his lower back, stepping forward ever so slightly to brush their bodies together. Hearing Castiel suck in a sharp, surprised breath through his nose, Dean nearly backed off, thinking he had gone too far. However, his worry was instantly quelled by Castiel wrapping his still damp hands around his neck, fingers experimentally stroking at his short, soft hair. Without hesitation now as his breathing picked up, Dean poured all of his pent-up feelings into the now extremely intimate kiss.

Castiel sighed into the warm sensation and simply pulled Dean closer, their hesitant brush of bodies now a sure press of closeness. As naturally as if they had been kissing for years, the blue-eyed man parted his lips slowly, letting his tongue barely slip out to trace the farmer's full lower lip. Surprised at the sudden action, Dean locked up for half a second before responding enthusiastically to the new sensation. Slowly, he let his tongue slide in turn from his own lips, the touch against Castiel's nearly electric. It was unlike anything he had ever felt before and in a bold move, he let his tongue wrap sinuously around the other man's.

Castiel groaned and shifted against Dean, his first instinct being to pull him closer before he realized what the wonderful sensation flooding through him was: lust. Gasping as he broke the trance of the kiss enough to realize his erection was dangerously close to being pressed against the farmer's thigh, Castiel pulled back, breath coming in short pants.

Dean felt Castiel's retreat and sharp intake of breath, the break in their kiss making him, too, realize his hardened state. Utterly shocked that a simple amount of kissing could cause in him such a strong reaction, Dean felt his face flush in embarrassment as he looked down to his boots and tried to shift and hide his obvious arousal.

"Well then, uh," he stammered, licking his lips of Castiel's taste, "good night, then." Castiel cleared his throat. "Good night," he responded, finding his tone low and gravelly in his current state.

Dean quickly walked off into his room, and after a few moments, Castiel did the same, retreating to his room as his face burned in shame. Had Dean felt his erection, was that why he had been so flustered? Or, he thought, biting the inside of his cheek, had the farmer been in a similar state? Unable to pull a definitive answer from his recent memories, Castiel set about stripping down to his drawers, readying for bed.

However, when he crawled beneath the thin comforter, he found his erection persistent despite his best efforts to calm it with the routine of normalcy. Not having felt this desperate since he was a teenager, Castiel reached down to smooth his fingers along his lower abdomen, hesitating although he was only in his own presence.

He had only done this a few times during his adolescent years, and even then it had filled him with a dirty feeling shame. However, his pure love for Dean had made him question what society discerned as moral and immoral, and in a personally bold move, the blue-eyed man slipped his fingers beneath his drawers and let them curl around the damp, hot, hard flesh of his arousal. Groaning without thought at the sensation he hadn't had for a year save for in his dreams, Castiel rolled his hips up into the solid presence of his hand, another gasp slipping from his lips before his senses came about him, forcing him to go quiet.

Dean turned his pillow over to the cool side, trying to do anything to stave off his current erection. Sure, he had masturbated before and had slowly gotten over his shame upon the personal subject, but at the moment, with his current arousal caused by Castiel, it did feel slightly wrong, as if he had used the other man.

However, at a sudden sound coming from Castiel's room, he snapped to full alertness, curiosity furrowing his brow. Surely that hadn't been... However, he didn't have to wonder for long when another, louder gasp sounded from the blue-eyed man, who was only separated by the thin wall between their rooms.

"Oh..." The farmer whispered to himself, his indecision suddenly resolved at what Castiel was currently occupied with. Licking at his dry lips that still tasted of the other man, Dean, too, reached beneath his drawers and palmed his erection, which was quickly becoming slick with precome. Letting out a moan before he could help himself, Dean clamped his mouth shut and forced himself to quiet as he slipped a thumb over the weeping slit of his arousal.

Castiel released his cock for but a moment to lick a long, wet stripe along his precome salty palm before he returned the improved, slick sensation to himself, already feeling warmth build in his lower abdomen. Muffling a groan he felt building in him, Castiel began to let his mind wander to thoughts of Dean, a brief image of the farmer's bare torso beginning to develop from his memories.

This image didn't last long when he was suddenly pulled back to reality by a rather loud moan of pleasure that  _definitely_ wasn't his. Eyes widening, Castiel felt arousal rush hotly through him, and quickened his pace on his cock, letting out an experimental, breathy groan to test the waters as he twisted his hand on the upstroke.

Dean, after a few moments of time he took to enjoy the sensation of his own fingers, once again heard a sound of sheer arousal come in Castiel's deep, rumbling baritone. Arousal punching into him and causing him to veer closer to the edge faster than ever before, Dean bit his lip and let his middle finger massage the sensitive bundle of nerves located on the underside of his erection, feeling a blurt of precome leak from his slit. He dared then to groan loudly, stilling his hand to wait for a response, heart pounding wildly with arousal and nervousness.

Castiel had now increased the speed on his cock, his fingers playing on the taut, hard flesh, teasing himself closer to orgasm as he heard another groan from Dean's room. Breath now coming in short, ragged, pants, Castiel nearly bucked his hips up off the bed with the quickness of his pace, small yet audible whimpers slipping from his flushed and parted lips at each stroke.

"Nnngg.. Dean!" He cried without thought, thrusting but once more up into the tight, solid heat of his own fist before orgasm overwhelmed him, long, white stripes of come painting his chest, his every nerve ignited and sensitized at the feeling.

Dean, now working his fingers quickly over the smooth heat of his arousal, strained to listen intently for the small sounds Castiel was now letting out at a consistent pace. Closing his eyes to let himself boldly imagine just how the other man looked, Dean's fast stripping of his cock soon turned into erratic jerks. Close, so close, he thought desperately as he squirmed desperately on his own mattress. Then, at the sudden cry of his name coming through the thin wall, Dean lost it.

"C-Cas!" He responded in turn, breath coming in pants as he came, the hot, viscous substance dripping over his fist, which was still wrapped around his cock. Catching his breath, Dean slumped back against his pillow, fumbling for a wash cloth on his bedside table to wipe himself off. Once the task was done and he was clean enough to sleep, Dean relaxed back into his bed, thoughts muddled by his recent release. He would worry about it tomorrow, but now, he thought as his eyes closed, he would rest.

Castiel licked his lips, which were dry from the earlier rate of his breath. Had he just masturbated with the vocal aid of Dean? Cleaning up quickly, he decided that, yes, it had just happened but he, like Dean, was too sated to think it over. So, with the same mindset of taking care of the worry come morning, Castiel slumped down into bed, eyelids falling to lure him into a hasty sleep.

 


	22. Storm

Castiel woke slowly the next morning, the pleasant relaxation of the previous night still buzzing through his veins. Rising slowly, he stretched, feeling with slight discomfort a tightness on the skin of his stomach. Mind instantly turning back to what had gone on not seven hours before, Castiel frowned with worry and shame. Yes, he had heard Dean respond with various and admittedly erotic sounds; hell, he had even heard his name called in a loud moan, but still his cheeks burned. Licking his dry lips, the blue-eyed man headed over to his wash basin, dipping a fresh wash cloth into the water. He would have to do laundry, he vaguely reminded himself as he scrubbed the dry come from his taut abdomen.

Dean, too, woke with the pleasant sensation of one who had found release the night before. However, like Castiel, his feeling of contentment didn't last long before embarrassment curled low in his stomach. Maybe Castiel hadn't heard him until he cried his name in orgasm. Shaking his head, Dean headed over to his wash basin as well, cleaning the evidence causing his shame from his fingers. He supposed they would need to talk about it, discuss whether or not they wished to further their new relationship into more intimate territory, but he had no idea how to go about doing so. What was he to do, simply sit down to breakfast and ask Castiel if the night previous was a one-time only event? No, of course not. Sighing, Dean decided to feel out the situation first, and dressed quickly, the scent of fried eggs and ham wafting into his room.

"Mornin'." Dean greeted softly, sitting down at the table as Castiel flipped an egg in the skillet. Castiel gave a small nod, plating up their meals after a moment. Somehow, he couldn't bring himself to look Dean in the eye after last night. Setting the food on the table, he, too, sat, clearing his throat. "Mornin'."

Dean could practically feel the tension strangling him, but didn't mention it and instead aimed for routine normalcy. Perhaps it would fix the awkward, unspoken shame lingering between them. "This looks delicious," he said, cutting into the meal, "thank ya." Castiel looked up at the other man's words and gave him a smile, forgetting the night before for just a moment. "Thank ya."

Dean caught the happy expression and returned it, digging into his meal. Normalcy seemed to work, for now anyway. "If we don't get some rain within the next two weeks, I'm thinkin' we'll have to get some people out here to help with the waterin'.". Castiel nodded. "Do ya think it'll happen?" He asked over a bite of ham. "I don't know. I'm hopin' so." He replied with a shrug, finishing up his meal faster than usual. "I've gotta get the plowin' done today, so I probably won't be comin' in for dinner.".

Castiel rose from his chair and cleared the table. "That's fine. I'm doin' some washing today, if you have any clothes to bring out." "Yeah, lemme go get 'em." Dean responded, watching Castiel move about the kitchen for another short moment before walking back to his room. Sighing, he rubbed a hand over his face, feeling slightly better than he had this morning. Things seemed better, he thought, but knew he couldn't be sure until they talked about it. Dread curling ever so slightly in the pit of his stomach, Dean frowned and grabbed in dirty clothes, bringing them out to the dining room where Castiel had just finished up the dishes.

"Do ya want anything specific for supper?" Castiel asked, watching as the dirty, dusty clothing was piled upon a nearby kitchen chair. Dean shrugged once more, thinking. "We haven't had fried chicken in a while," he answered with a soft smile. "You do make real good chicken." Castiel felt a blush rise up his neck at the compliment and trained his eyes on his boots, the previous night somehow placing a strange feeling to the other man's welcome compliments. "Thank ya," he responded softly. "I'll do that."

Dean, the smile never leaving his face, went to the front entrance and grabbed his hat, ready to leave. However, before his fingers had curled around the door knob, he remembered himself and turned back around, heading over to where Castiel stood. "Hey, Cas?" Castiel felt his stomach drop, as surely Dean was going to question him about the night before. "Yeah?" He replied, daring to look up and meet the farmer's eyes.

Dean smiled softly, and in hopes the pleasure they had reveled in didn't destroy anything between them, leaned forward, pressing his lips to the slightly rough, stubble covered cheek of his best friend. "Have a good day," he murmured, turning to head out the door.

Castiel's heart rate picked up at the sudden gesture, a smile coming over his features at the press of Dean's lips against his cheek. There had been so much meaning in the small action, so many unspoken words, it made him dizzy. Smiling to himself, the blue-eyed man set about his daily chores, lighter in his step than before. Sweeping wasn't difficult, and if he kept up with it properly, it took him but five minutes each day. Satisfied with the now clean floor, Castiel took a wash cloth to the counters and walls, scrubbing away the various smudges of dust, food, and soot, leaving the wood clear and clean-looking after only a good hour of work.

Glancing around, Castiel could see nothing else to be done and made his way to his room to gather up his clothing. He didn't have much to wash, but what little there was, was in desperate need of it. Deciding he had to do the washing more often, he hauled his armful of clothing out to the dining room, setting it on the already existing pile in the chair.

Grabbing the wash board and soap from the corner near the stove, Castiel headed out to the back and prepared a large bucket of water, his arm feeling slightly sore. Pointedly  _not_ thinking about the reason his muscles were complaining quietly after his activities of the previous night, he finished filling the wooden tub and ducked back inside to grab the clothing.

"Hey buddy," he said happily to Henry as he carried the pile out to the basin, dumping it unceremoniously into the water. Henry looked up to him with a happy, open-mouthed smile, sitting in the dry dirt as Castiel began to work. "You're getting' older, aren't ya?" Castiel asked, scratching at the dog's barely graying temples. Finding no response other than the animal leaning into his touch, he went about the washing.

Taking a pair of Dean's pants first, he set them on the wash board and scrubbed the soap bar along the length of the legs, eyes scanning the landscape as he worked diligently. The trees had just begun to bud, leaving a soft, flowery scent in the air more often than not. It was early April now, and by all counts, should've been cooler. However, instead of chilly mists of rain, they were having dry, hot, dusty weather, uncharacteristic of the area during the early spring months. Shaking his head, the blue-eyed man finished the first pair of jeans, wringing them out to dry before he clipped their damp, heavy weight to dry on the line Dean had strung for him last fall.

Thoughts now turning back to the farmer as he scrubbed at a shirt, Castiel felt himself blush. Surely Dean had intentionally meant to be loud, he  _had,_ after all, cried out his name in ecstasy. But despite this fact, he still couldn't be sure. Perhaps Dean considered it a lapse in judgment. Sighing, Castiel decided to figure it out later, when the inevitable conversation came up between them.

The whole washing process took a good two hours, as the clothes were stubborn and the water had to be changed periodically, but soon Castiel had finished the tedious job, and stepped back, looking upon the damp, hung up clothing with a slight sense of pride.

"Wanna go check on Sunshine with me?" He asked, looking down to the spot where Henry had sat the whole time. However, instead of bright, brown eyes meeting his, the dog was nowhere to be found. Brow furrowing in confusion, Castiel looked up to scan the land before him. In his state of hard work, he hadn't noticed much around him, but now he was back in tune with the world, he realized the air was thick and heavy with humidity, due to the nearly black clouds hanging low over the land. Smiling, although slightly disappointed the clothing would take longer to dry now, the blue-eyed man breathed in the fresh scent with a sense of relief: they would finally have rain for the fields. And just in time, too, for the planting that had to be done.

Dean wiped at his brow, taking a small rest after his consistent work. He had noticed the dark clouds rolling in, and didn't think much of them besides the feeling of relief that filled him. However, now, when he leaned against his plow to take a few breaths, he noticed clouds swirling on the horizon, accompanied with a thick, almost dusty tint to the air surrounding him.

"Oh no..." He muttered under his breath, stomach sinking in panic as the first, heavy, fast drops of rain began to fall. Abandoning his plow as a crack of thunder sounded above him, Dean set off in a full run towards the meadow where Sunshine was currently grazing, whistling for her urgently. As always, the bovine came ambling over calmly from her previous lounging position, confusion showing in her gait at the change in schedule.

"C'mon girl, we've gotta move, alright?" Dean said quickly, rounding to the back of the animal to gently slap her flank, urging her into a faster pace towards the barn. It took too long for the farmer's comfort, but soon they had made their way back to the barn, all the animals, including Henry, safely locked in from the force of nature to come. Securing the barn doors as best he could with his dripping, shaking hand, Dean turned back towards the house, his mind now only focused on one thing: Castiel.

"Cas!" He shouted, feet slapping against the wet mud beneath him as he burst into the front door, the rain halting suddenly behind him. Castiel looked up in surprise at the sight of Dean, soaked to the bone, fear conveyed in his every feature as he blocked the doorway. "Dean," he replied, rising quickly from his rest at the kitchen table, "what's wrong?" "The storm." Dean panted, rushing quickly around the house to grab a few matches and a lantern. "We've gotta get down into the root cellar."

Castiel watched Dean for a moment, and looked back outside to where the rain had completely ceased, the only evidence of the short bought of weather being the mud glistening beneath the grass. "Dean, the rain's stopped," he said slowly, puzzled at the actions of the other man. Dean shook his head, pausing for a moment to look at Castiel. "That's the problem, it isn't a thunderstorm," he explained urgently. "It's a tornado."

At the words, Castiel's stomach instantly twisted into an anxious, terrified knot. "What do we do?". Dean, arm full of supplies, motioned to the door as a clap of thunder sounded, followed by a telltale, dull roar that didn't cease. "Out in the back, into the cellar."

Castiel nodded, rushing to the back door to open it and let Dean out. Once they were outside, the wind began to pick up, hindering their progress towards the safe underground quite drastically. "Dean!" The blue-eyed man called over the dull roar of the impending storm. "You go first!" He continued, tugging the cellar door open with a bought of strength and agility even he was surprised at. Dean wanted to refuse, but in the moment, could think of nothing else to do but descend the steps into the cool, pantry-like space.

Castiel stood, holding the door open to ensure Dean got down safely, all while fighting the urge to relent under the huge force of wind. Taking one last look to the nearly bending trees, he turned to climb down into the cellar, ignoring the stinging pain upon his cheeks as hail began to pelt down upon him. After what felt like a long struggle with the wind to close the cellar door, Castiel finally finished the task and slumped down onto the dirt steps, panting as adrenaline rushed through his veins.

"Cas?" Dean asked urgently, carrying the now lit lantern to the other man's side. "Are ya alright?" Castiel nodded, wiping water and dirt from his eyes. "Yeah, I think so," he responded, voice loud over the sound of the weather above them. "Let's get ya away from the hatch, then, c'mon to the back where it'll be safer." Castiel complied and moved to sit against the back wall, Dean hanging the lantern on a nearby peg before joining him.

"You're sure you're alright?" Dean asked, glancing over to Castiel. "Dean, I told ya, I'm fine." Castiel responded despite the stinging pain on his cheek. Dean carefully studied the other man's face before nodding in confirmation, settling down despite the shivers that threatened to overtake him.

"What's gonna happen?" Castiel asked after a few minutes of silence, the thudding of hail now dissipated from above them, leaving everything eerily quiet. "I don't know if it's a big or small one, but it'll come through and cause some damage. I'm just glad I didn't start the plantin' yet, it'll probably tear up the fiel-" he began to explain, suddenly cut off by an ear-piercing roar directly above them.

Hands quickly coming to clutch at his ears, Castiel ducked his head down into his knees to force himself to calm the erratic beat of his heart. Looking up after a moment, he saw Dean, hunkered down against the noise as he clutched at one ear with his only hand to dull the horrifying sound. Instantly feeling guilty over his own self-protecting reaction, Castiel pulled Dean close to him without another thought, pressing the ear the farmer couldn't cover to his chest.

Dean let himself be tugged into the welcome warmth Castiel provided and curled into the other man, waiting as the loud, screeching sound slowly quieted, sounding as if it was getting further away from them.

"Dean?" Castiel asked, uncovering his own ringing ears. Dean looked up from his half-laying position resting against the other man, uncovering his ear as well. "Yeah?"

"You alright?"

Dean nodded. "Yeah, I'm fine, thanks." He said sincerely, about to get up and move his soaked body off of Castiel's blessedly dry one before he felt a strong, slightly hesitant arm curl around his shoulders.

"You're freezin'." Castiel said after a moment of heavy silence, as if to explain his actions. "I'll just get you cold, I'll be fine." Dean tried to refuse, although he wanted nothing more than to stay in the comforting warmth of the arms of the man he loved. "Then let me get cold." Castiel responded. "All that matters now is that you're safe, alright? Not the farm, not the animals, not me, just you.".

Dean looked up to Castiel, puzzlement etched into his features. "It's really fine, I'll just-" Castiel shook his head and pulled Dean a fraction of an inch closer, heard pounding wildly. "Dean, please, let me take care of ya. You've done your part to care for me." Dean relented after the soft words and relaxed into Castiel's arms, his shivering dissipating as they waited out the storm.

"Cas?" He said after a good ten minutes of silence, sitting up just enough to meet the other man's gaze. Castiel looked to Dean carefully, knowing somehow this was the moment he had been dreading since that morning. "Yeah?" Dean looked down to his outstretched boots for a moment before speaking. "Look, I figure now's as good a time as any, since we're just waitin' down here anyway..." He began, taking a deep breath. "About last night, after we went to bed, was that, uh, intentional?"

Castiel licked his lips subconsciously and felt his face burn red, hoping the low light in the cellar wasn't enough to show it. "Yes. And you?" He responded eventually, knowing the farmer would want the truth. Dean felt his stomach twist in both excitement and fear, for now everything seemed to be out on the table. "Yes," he answered, unable to look the other man in the face. "I liked it, a lot actually. I really don't know what to do with it, though."

Castiel didn't respond for a long while, thinking over his next words carefully. "I don't either," he said eventually. "But, I've gotta be honest, I want to figure it out." Dean, despite the recent disaster that was probably destroying his farm as he spoke, felt a flush of heat run from his head to his toes. "I want that too," he answered truthfully, daring to even look back up into the other man's eyes. "Look, Cas, I know this is new to the both of us and it's alright to take it slow. All I know for sure now," he continued, taking a deep breath to steel his nerves for the next words, words that he never would have dreamed of speaking before, "is that I love you".

Castiel sat for a long minute, eyes wide in shock to the words he knew to be true and should have expected coming. "I," he said, stilling his quivering hand with the monuments exchange that was happening between them, "I love you too, Dean. Have for a long time now."

Dean, despite everything that was happening, smiled in relief, a lump forming in his throat at the three words that now seemed to cement their companionship. Without another word, he leaned forward slowly and captured Castiel's lips in a soft, deep kiss, one that uttered thank you in its own meaningful way.

So, there the two men sat, one shivering through his soaked clothing, the other trying his best to warm him. Even though the storm still wreaked havoc outside the dark cellar, on the inside, there was nothing but peace to be found. Peace, and an acceptance that had come at no small price, an acceptance that was far more valuable than either man could fathom.


	23. Photographs

It was another hour before Dean deemed it safe to venture out of the cellar. Peeling himself away from Castiel's side, leaving the other man's shirt damp where he had lain, the farmer rose and headed for the steps, Castiel not far behind, lantern in hand.

"Do ya think it'll be bad?" Castiel asked after a long stretch of silence as Dean stared up at the cellar door with a look of hesitation. Dean shook his head. "I don't rightly know. Could be," he answered, reaching up to push against the door, "or it could've just missed everythin'. You never really know 'til ya get out there to figure the damage." "Well," Castiel said, moving forward to help Dean open the door, "I guess we should get out there."

Both men squinted at the light as the door came open, water dripping onto their faces from above. Dean was the first to step out, a gasp slipping from his lips that only served to tighten the existing knot in Castiel's stomach.

"Is it ba-" Castiel began asking as he stepped out, the sight he was met with answering his question. There, before him, lay the farm, looking as if it had been torn to shambles. Trees had been ripped from the ground by their roots, their foliage completely stripped to leave bare branches. Long grass had been shredded, it's once lush look now diminished to choppy, dirty earth, more sod visible than green.

However, the destruction of the once beautiful landscape was incomparable to the destruction of the structures on the farm. The newly built chicken coop had likely been in the direct path of the twister, as the only thing remaining of the structure was splinters of wood, feathers, and dead carcasses of chickens littered around them. Thankfully, only a small part of the east wall of the cabin had been torn off, and from what he could see, Castiel concluded the barn had gone completely untouched.

"Oh god..." Dean breathed, stress creasing the slight lines on his face as he walked forward, mud squelching beneath his boots as he took in his flock of fifteen chickens, all dead either from blunt force trauma, puncture wounds, or bone breakage.

"Hey, it's not all bad." Castiel tried to reassure, gesturing to the house and barn. "The house has barely been touched, and nothin' happened to the barn." Dean nodded, relief shining in his eyes despite the remaining frown on his face. "We'll have to rebuild the coop, I guess. Don't know what for, though, 'cause I can't afford to start another flock 'till at least next spring."

Castiel watched Dean's expression closely before answering, resting his hand against the farmer's forearm. "We'll get it done. Don't worry, I'll be here for you, Dean." Dean turned to Castiel, a soft smile breaking through the sadness coloring his features. "Thank ya," he replied after a moment, slowly reaching down to squeeze the other man's fingers. "So," he said with a dry chuckle, attempting to make light of the situation that would set him back in funds that year due to egg sales, "no fried chicken, tonight, I guess. What do ya wanna have now?".

Castiel thought for a moment, realizing they didn't have many other options. "I could make the last of the eggs. Breakfast for supper, if you would like." Dean nodded. "That sounds fine," he answered, looking to the cabin. "Wanna go look at the damage before I check on the animals?" "Yeah." Castiel responded, heading towards the house, Dean's hand still in his. Stepping over the dead carcasses of chickens wasn't doing anything to stop the slumping of the farmer's shoulders, but in a few moments, they made their way back into the house, away from the saddening sight.

"I think it hit the side of your room." Dean mused, venturing to the back of the cabin to check, Castiel not far behind. Opening the door to the other man's room, the farmer discovered he was correct, for nearly half the east wall was absent, leaving the dresser tilted to its side, drawers strewn across the floor "Doesn't look too bad," he continued, "we can get it built back up in a day or tw-" he explained, suddenly cut off by Castiel rushing into the room before him, almost looking panicked.

"No, no please, no." Castiel muttered under his breath, fear rising in him. "Cas?" Dean asked, watching the other man claw desperately at the inside of the top, already open drawer. "What's wrong?" Castiel didn't respond for a moment, frantically searching for what he knew couldn't have been there anymore. "Her picture," he answered shortly, words shaky. "It's gone."

Dean was puzzled at first at Castiel's words, but in a split second, it all sunk in: he must've kept the picture of his wife in that drawer. "Oh, Cas..." He breathed softly, brow creasing in sympathy and sadness to see the other man in such a desperate, now grieving state. Castiel shook his head, kneeling on the floor in a slump of despair, tears burning the back of his eyes. "It can't be gone, it was all I had left to remember her by."

Dean instantly went to kneel by Castiel on the hard wood floor, ignoring a splinter that poked into his knee as he placed his hand on the other man's back. "Cas," he began, unsure of what to say. What was there to say, in the situation? Yes, Castiel had moved on, had begun to love again and for that Dean was eternally grateful. However, he still understood that no matter how far one moves from past grief caused by the cruel fate of death, the pain will still linger, the hurt will still cut deep most days.

Somewhere, deep down, Dean had always known Castiel would always love his wife, this incident only proving that fact. But, even with this knowledge, it still didn't mean Castiel couldn't love others, couldn't love him. Love, the farmer knew, did not have one definition but instead consisted of many shapes and forms, like the grooves on one's thumb. No two were the same, and with every person, they differed, just as in love. With every person to person love, whether it be platonic or romantic, came a different type of love, one that contained a different meaning, a different depth, a different feeling.

This knowledge, in no way, invalidated the love Dean knew Castiel had grown for him, but instead reassured it. For kneeling on that floor, a humid, yet thankfully cooler breeze floating through the open gap in the wall, the farmer saw how different Castiel's love was for Kate compared to his. While Kate was his first love, a love born of quick, young passion, he was Castiel's second love, this time a love that came creeping slowly into the heart. While both valid, perfect, and pure expressions, Dean felt gratitude well in him that he, a lowly farmer in the heart of Kansas, could be the receiver of one of the many types of unique love Castiel, as anyone else, had to give. So, no, Dean thought, Castiel's reaction did not jar him, or invalidate their feelings for each other. Instead, it simply showed Castiel still held one type of love, while giving Dean another, both being perfect and equal.

"It's alright, I'm here for ya." The farmer finished softly. Castiel, at Dean's eventual words, suddenly began crying, shoulders slumping impossibly further as he set the empty drawer down in defeat, unable to speak past the lump in his throat.

"Hey, cm're." Dean murmured, pulling Castiel into his chest. "It'll be alright." Castiel buried his face into the soft cotton of Dean's nearly dry shirt, wetting it once more, this time with his tears as the scar Kate's death had left became irritated by the loss of her beautiful photograph. "I need to remember what she looked like, I can't just let her fade in my mind."

Dean felt a lump rise in his own throat at the broken tone of Castiel's words and nodded understandingly, pressing his lips to the other man's tousled, dark hair before speaking. "You wanna know a little trick I use?" He asked, daring to bring up the topic he rarely ever discussed. "To remember the people I've lost?" The farmer took a breath, steadying his nerves from the rhetorical question before continuing. "Every mornin' and every night, I lie in bed, close my eyes and imagine Sa-" he paused, not willing to bring up his own painful past while trying to help his friend, "imagine the person I've lost. Really try and focus on one thing, every day. Whether it's their eyes, or their laugh, it doesn't matter, just focus on it and add it to your brain's image. If ya do this often enough, it sorta keeps them vivid in your head, keeps 'em with you no matter how many years they've been gone."

Castiel listened closely to Dean's kind words, the rate of his tears and breathing slowly decreasing into calmness as he nodded. Closing his eyes as instructed, to try the trick immediately, he began to imagine Kate's smile. Soft and warm, just like her personality. And, just like that, with one addition to his mental image, Castiel felt his view of Kate was just a bit stronger than before, even with the lack of her picture.

Opening his sapphire eyes, he sat up from Dean's hold and looked to him, despite how ridiculous he must look with his red rimmed eyes. "Thank ya, that really does help," he answered softly, voice still shaky as Dean's fingers slipped between his once more. "You're welcome." Dean murmured, giving Castiel a smile.

Castiel sat for a few moments in silence, running a hesitant thumb over the slightly dry back of Dean's knuckles before a realization came over him. Dean had just watched him break down over Kate, perhaps he secretly thought his love for her surpassed his, or that perhaps his had never existed. "Dean," he began, looking up to gauge the farmer's reaction, "ya know, I meant what I said earlier, I do love ya. This didn't-" Dean squeezed Castiel's hand, a soft, sad smile coming to his lips as he cut off the other man's words before he had a chance to say them. "I know ya did, and I know this doesn't mean ya don't," he quickly reassured. "I love ya, too.".

Castiel let a soft smile light up his eyes, and leaned up to press a kiss to the stubble covered cheek of the farmer. "Good," he said, "that's good." Then, with this, he rose, offering his hand to help Dean up. "Want supper now?" Dean, still holding onto Castiel's hand despite the fact he was already on his feet, nodded. "Yeah, do ya need help?" Castiel shook his head. "No, you go check on the animals, I'll get everythin' ready."

"Thanks." Dean said, squeezing Castiel's hand a final time before he exited out to the front room to grab his hat, which laid on the floor near the entrance, where it had fallen in his panic before the storm. Picking it up, he dusted it off as he always had and made his way out into the now cool, moist air of late afternoon, Castiel just beginning the meal preparations behind him.

Walking down the path towards the barn, Dean's heart felt light, even with the disastrous occurrences of the day. Castiel had promised to stay by his side, had returned his love and now, the farmer knew no matter what happened, it would all be okay, as long as he had the other man's love. Nearing the barn, Dean looked closely at the walls and roof, finding, much to his relief, confirmation the large building hadn't been effected by the unfortunate tornado.

After his quick inspection, the farmer unlatched the door and stepped inside the cool, darker space, finding the animals much like he'd expected. The horses, Dan and Charlie, were scuffing their hooves in the dirt, restless in the fear they still felt due to the loud storm. Sunshine, black, shiny eyes wide with fear, was laying in the far corner of her pen, her muscles quivering in anxiety. However, Henry was nowhere to be found. Concern creasing his brow for his aging dog, Dean gave the horses and Sunshine a bit of sweet hay to calm them before calling for his companion.

"Henry? Ya there, buddy?" He asked gently, gaze sweeping across the darkened space. It took a moment, but quickly his eyes fell upon his dog, quivering violently in the corner with fear. "Aw, bud," Dean murmured softly, approaching Henry slowly, hand outstretched, "it's alright, all of it's over now. C'mon," he beckoned, kneeling three feet away from the frightened animal. Almost instantly, Henry rose from his seated position in the corner and timidly made his way over to his master, tail between his legs in still present fear.

"That's it, good boy." Dean encouraged, heart going out for his dog, who had always been happy-go-lucky before. Then, all at once, Henry moved forward quickly, nearly crawling into the farmer's lap for comfort. Dean instantly wrapped his arm around the dog's shaking body and stroked his rough fur, murmuring soft words to calm the animal he had raised from birth.

After a good ten minutes of simply calming his dog, Dean rose, Henry far calmer than he had been. "C'mon, let's go to the house, I'll toss ya out some dinner." He said, exiting the barn as Henry stepped out behind him, albeit a bit cautiously.

Castiel had just finished plating up the eggs and biscuits when Dean entered, hanging his hat on the peg near the door as he always did. "Can I snag one of those?" Dean asked, motioning to the golden brown quick bread piled high near the stove. Castiel nodded, grabbing a biscuit to hand to Dean, who threw it out to Henry before sitting down at the table.

"This looks delicious, thank ya." The farmer said, smiling at the routine. "Thank ya." Castiel responded, never completely losing his blush at the consistent compliment.

The rest of the short dinner was quiet, all conversation already spoken earlier. Soon, the dishes were cleared, Dean readying to head off to bed. Just as the farmer was about to bid Castiel a good night, as he always did, he suddenly remembered the rather large hole in the other man's wall. Surely, he couldn't sleep there tonight, it would be too cold, and there was a large risk of wild animals wandering in.

"Cas?" He asked after a moment. Castiel turned to face Dean as he finished drying the last plate. "Yeah?" Dean rubbed the back of his neck self-consciously, hoping he didn't sound strange in asking. "Well, the way I figure it, you can't very well sleep in your room, and I'd hate to leave ya out here with nothin' but hard chairs, so I just wanted to offer you share my bed for tonight.".

Castiel faltered at the sudden suggestion, thinking for a moment, hesitation clear on his features. However, it was true sleeping in his room would be disastrous, and in a second he had come to a decision. "Yeah, I think that's a fine idea," he said softly, face flushing slightly at the thought. "Thanks." Dean nodded, smiling softly to reassure the other man his intentions were pure. "We'll stay on separate sides, of course, whatever you'd be comfortable with." Castiel gave Dean a grateful look. "Yeah, I think that'd be best." He replied, not wanting sudden, too-close proximity to urge them into rushing the one thing they should never hurry.

"I'll probably be in bed by the time ya come in, so don't worry about disturbin' me." Castiel nodded, turning back to finish washing up the kitchen. "Good night." "Night." Dean replied softly, watching the other man for a few seconds before entering into his room, preparing for and getting into bed as he always did, despite the nervous knot in his stomach. Really, he shouldn't think anything of it, they were only sharing a bed, nothing more. But, somehow, the mere implication of being so close under the covers made the farmer nervous.

Castiel, too, was slightly nervous, but pushed it away, entering Dean's room after he had prepared for bed. Hesitating for but a moment at the empty space the farmer had left for him, Castiel climbed in slowly and laid stiffly, almost afraid to move.

"It's alright to relax, ya know." Dean's voice sounded in the darkness. At the sudden cease in the silence around him, Castiel jumped, chuckling to himself once the split second of surprise had passed. "Yeah, alright," he replied, relaxing into the soft mattress. Dean rolled over, minding his distance as he placed his fingers innocently on Castiel's arm. "Will ya be alright?"

Castiel relaxed further despite their now closer proximity, and nodded, although the movement couldn't be seen in the dark. "Yeah, I'll be fine," he replied truthfully, feeling Dean's hand move from his arm to cup at his face. "Is it alright if I bid ya a good night?" Dean asked softly, inching only his face closer to Castiel's, while keeping ever mindful about his body's closeness.

Castiel felt a blush color his cheeks under the cover of darkness and licked his lips. "Yeah, of course." With the whispered consent, Dean pressed his dry lips to Castiel's damp ones, the kiss short and chaste before he moved back to his side of the bed, settling into his pillow. "I love ya," he murmured as a final thought before sleep overtook his mind.

"I love ya too."


	24. Heat

Castiel woke slowly, as he always did. However, instead of his face being buried in his plush pillow, it instead was pressed against something warm and almost earthy smelling, something he nuzzled into for half a second before his brain caught up, causing him to realize exactly what he was pressing his face into: Dean.

Eyes flying open in panic, Castiel found he was currently cuddled into the back of Dean's neck, his arm wrapped around the farmer's waist, a certain pleasure thrumming through him. Thoughts turning into a mantra of 'no' as he shifted minutely as to not wake his friend, Castiel felt he was hard against what he could only assume was Dean's backside. Panic and inappropriate arousal flushing through him at an alarming rate, Castiel tried to shift away slowly to avoid any awkwardness.

However, despite his best efforts, he felt Dean shift and sigh in waking. Trying now desperately to untangle himself so Dean wouldn't feel the morning erection he had, the blue-eyed man pulled his arm away from where it rested around the farmer, freezing when Dean's sleepy voice broke the silence.

"Cas?" Dean asked hesitantly, body going rigid when Castiel tried to move away, unintentionally causing his erection to brush against the farmer's more private area. Castiel cleared his throat, pausing in sheer horror that he had been caught. "Hello, Dean." Was all he could think to say, his breath close to the back of his friend's neck.

Dean heard the nervous, embarrassed shake of Castiel's voice and quickly helped the other man untangle himself, a blush rising up his own neck as the room filled with uncomfortable silence. Castiel quickly shifted to his respectable side of the bed, clearing his throat as he stood. "I'll uh, go make some breakfast," he mustered, aiming to ignore the recent incident. Dean nodded mutely, meeting Castiel's blue eyes for an awkward second. "Yeah, alright."

With the confirmation, Castiel turned and nearly fled from the room. Heading straight for his room, he grabbed what little clothing he had left after the tornado and pulled on his shirt, suspenders, jeans, and boots, ignoring his still-aroused state to try and aim for normalcy of some sort.

Then, with resolve to forget the embarrassing incident, he exited his cool room and stood in the kitchen, thinking of something to make. They had a busy day ahead of them, with all the repairs to be made, so anything light that would leave them hungry halfway through the day was nixed. Eggs, too, were obviously out of the question for the time being, and until they could get to town to buy more ham, meat wasn't an available option either. So, Castiel decided, pancakes it was. He was now an expert at the previously frustrating dish, and it would certainly sit in their bellies longer than most other choices. With this decision, Castiel went to work, ignoring his now thankfully softening erection to properly prepare the meal.

Dean, as soon as Castiel left, let out a breath he had been holding in, the rush of oxygen to his slightly deprived brain causing blood to flush beneath the surface of his cheeks. He couldn't lie to himself, he had certainly enjoyed waking up to the unmistakable feeling of Castiel pressed up against him, and for a few blissful, sleep-addled seconds, he had relaxed into the soft hold. That is, until he shifted and felt the other man's erection against him. Then, an uncomfortable mixture of embarrassment and arousal coursed through his body, his cock stirring to full hardness within his drawers in what felt like seconds.

Rubbing a hand over his tired face at the recent memory, Dean tried not to think about how ashamed Castiel had looked, despite the fact it had been a perfectly honest mistake that, if Dean would have been thinking logically the night before, was obviously bound to happen sometime or another. Luckily, they'd already talked about exploring the physical part of their relationship, so there wasn't much humiliating conversation to be had, as Dean was sure they both realized that was too close, too quick.

However, despite the fear it caused due to the unexpected speed their physical relationship was seeming to take, it still left Dean, who was sitting in bed, listening to Castiel clatter around in the kitchen, with a persistent erection he desperately wished away. Sighing, the farmer rose from his bed and set about dressing, ignoring his aroused state as Castiel had.

Glaring down at the obvious bulge in his jeans that was somehow begging to be taken care of, Dean took a deep breath and splashed cold water over his face, the liquid somehow cooling both his heated cheeks and body. Drying his face with a cloth he knew had to be washed soon, the farmer made his way out of his room to sit at his usual place at the table, Castiel nearly done with the meal.

"Do ya need any help?" Dean asked after a few minutes, breaking the silence. Castiel shook his head, setting the steaming cakes on the table along with the last bit of butter and syrup. "I got it," he answered with a smile, able to forget the incident for a moment as green eyes met his.

"Thank ya, then, this looks delicious." Dean murmured as he plated up his and Castiel's food. "Thank ya." Castiel replied with a smile, glad Dean, too, had decided not to mention the incident as he dug into the hot food.

"So, I'm thinkin' we can set the foundation and frame for the coop today. Most of the wood back there is torn to shreds, but we can use a bit of it. I've also got some lumber in the barn we can use and when we run outta that I guess we'll have to chop up some wood." Dean said after a while, taking another bite of his food. "That sounds fine." Castiel replied, looking out the window into the backyard. "What about the plantin' though?"

Dean thought for a moment before responding. "I'd like to wait a few days to make sure there aren't any storms. Wouldn't want to be plantin' the whole field only to have it torn up again." Castiel nodded. "Yeah, that makes sense. And the house, when'll we get that fixed?" "Well, to repair your wall, we'll need some clapboard wood from town. I think we could probably go in a couple of days, probably Sunday, so it's not as busy in the shops." Dean responded, scraping the last, gooey bit of pancake from his plate.

Castiel rose and cleared the dishes, stomach feeling full at the hearty meal. "That all sounds fine. Just tell me where I'm needed." Dean smiled at Castiel's easy-going attitude and stood as well, going to grab his hat. "I'll go get the tools and meet ya out there," he said, resisting the inexplicable urge to run his lips along Castiel's stubble covered neck as he exited the cabin. Now was not the time for these thoughts, they had work to do.

With this resolve, Dean headed to the barn, let Sunshine out to the field, and grabbed the materials he needed for the day. Arm as full as it could be with hammers, nails and a saw, Dean made his way to the back of the cabin, seeing Castiel had already begun the job.

"Ya started without me?" Dean called, a smile breaking on his face at the sight. Castiel shrugged, looking down to the pile of usable wood he had begun after cleaning up the chicken carcasses. "Haven't done much yet, just went an' buried the chickens.".

Dean's smile lessened at the mention, but he held his happy expression and dumped the tools onto the ground. "Thank ya," he said, looking to the still messy earth around them. "So, I guess we should just keep sortin' the usable wood and go from there." Castiel gave an affirmative nod, wiping his brow and adjusting his hat under the already-warm day. "Make sure ya rest if you get tired," he said after a moment, hoping it didn't sound as if he was coddling Dean simply because of his disability.

Dean paused for a moment at the comment, the want to get offended rising in him. However, before the feeling could come to a head, he tamped it down, knowing Castiel meant well. Giving the other man a smile that conveyed his gratefulness, the farmer nodded silently, picking up a still usable piece of wood.

The sorting didn't take long and soon, they were ready to begin building. As they laid the corner foundations, Dean explained how each placement of wood was crucial to helping the structure stay steady under the high winds of the area, Castiel listening intently as he learned the new information. Two hours later of hard, manual labor, they had run out of wood and both obviously needed a break.

Catching his breath under the now too-hot spring sun, Castiel took off his hat to fan his heated face, shirt sticking uncomfortably to his back. "Looks like we're in for a blazin' summer," he commented, seeing Dean was in a similar state across from him. "Haven't had weather like this since I was a boy." Dean answered, licking his chapped lips. "I say we take a break, and get a little water in us before we keep goin'." Castiel swallowed around his dry throat at the mention of water and glanced over to the close pump. "Yeah, please."

Dean gave the other man a smile at his manners and walked over to the pump, filling the tin cup to hand to Castiel, who took it gratefully. "Thank ya." Castiel said, gulping down the warm, yet still refreshing liquid before handing the tin back to Dean, who did the same.

Dean, when he was finished drinking, removed his hat and stuck it under the pump, filling the accessory with water. "This is a little trick my dad taught me for hot days," he explained, smiling as he brought the dripping hat up to his head, dumping water down his face and neck, the liquid sliding down onto his chest, "it really helps cool ya down."

Castiel watched with a puzzled expression as Dean explained himself, soon understanding as water trailed down the farmer's face and neck, causing his eyelashes to clump together and show off his impossibly green eyes. "That, uh," he began, licking his dry lips as he tried to ignore the heat coming back into his body for an entirely different reason than the sun beating down upon them, "looks real nice," he said, doing the same after a moment.

Dean watched as Castiel dumped water over himself from his hat and smiled at the slightly silly looking display. Silly looking, that is, until he watched water droplets slide over the other man's heated skin. It shouldn't have been as attractive as it was, but with the incident he hadn't taken care of properly that morning, tension was built up in his body, causing his mouth to go dry with the arousal he was suddenly experiencing.

Clearing his throat, Dean tore his eyes away when he realized Castiel was looking at him. "Uh, so, better, huh?" He asked, trying to keep his face from burning red at his stumbled words. Castiel blushed slightly under Dean's gaze and nodded. "Yeah, much better, thanks," he responded, rubbing the back of his damp neck self-consciously. "So, do we need more lumber from the barn?"

Dean, coming back to his senses, nodded. "Yeah, let's get goin'. We might have to use the wagon to haul it over here, though." "That's fine, besides, the horses are probably restless from yesterday." Castiel replied, feet leading him out to the barn, Dean not far behind. The walk over didn't take long and soon Castiel was helping Dean pull out the wagon from the shaded corner of the hay filled structure.

"Forgot how heavy this damn thing was." Dean commented, grunting as they finally positioned the heavy object to be loaded up. Castiel, catching his breath, nodded in agreement. "I don't know how ya ever managed that on your own," he replied, standing after a few moments, his shirt sticking to his body in the low light of the barn. "But at least we won't be puttin' it back for a few days." "Yeah, good thing, too." Dean replied, watching as Castiel grabbed a large piece of wood to haul up onto the back of the wagon.

Throat going dry once more with pent-up sexual frustration, Dean stood, watching Castiel absent-mindedly as his back flexed under the now see through white of his dampened shirt.

Castiel, after a few minutes of work, tuned back into the world and realized Dean was watching him intently. Turning to the farmer, who looked slightly uncomfortable, he placed a hand on his forearm. "Dean? Are ya alright, do ya need to sit down?"

Dean, snapping back into focus when Castiel's fingers wrapped around his arm, shook his head, face flushing in embarrassment. "No, I'm fine, really." Castiel, unconvinced, remained where he was, puzzled and concerned for the other man as he reached a hand up to test the temperature of the farmer's cheek. "Why don't we rest a bit more? The work can wait, I don't want the heat gettin' to ya."

Dean tried to keep himself controlled at Castiel's close proximity and leaned into his touch, offering the blue-eyed man a shaky smile. "It's not the heat that's gettin' to me," he responded before thinking. Castiel paused at the words, catching the half-intentional innuendo instantly. Nervousness and heat rising in his stomach, he met Dean's eyes, the air around them suddenly thick with hesitation. He  _had_ said he wanted to explore a more physical realm of their relationship, perhaps now was the time. "What is it, then?" He asked, fingers shaking ever so slightly as he dared to run a thumb over Dean's bottom lip.

Dean felt a shiver run down his spine at the other man's touch against his lip and flicked his eyes boldly down to Castiel's chest. "You're pretty distractin' there, partner."

Castiel felt his cock twitch at the words and flushed under the compliment, stepping forward in the irresistible urge to press their bodies together. "Should we do somethin' about it?" Castiel asked, the words not seductive but serious in tone, ensuring this step of their relationship wouldn't be too quick for either party involved.

Dean, noting the seriousness of the words, nodded, adam's apple bobbing as his jeans grew tight around his erection. "I think that'd be a good idea," he murmured, surprised to find Castiel's lips pressed to his a second later.

This time, there was little trepidation from either man to deepen the kiss and soon, the press of chapped lips together turned into a heated slide of tongues, panted breaths breaking the audible slickness of their kiss. Castiel then wrapped his arms around Dean's neck and backed him slowly to a nearby barn wall, his tongue flicking over the farmer's lower lip as he did so. As soon as he felt the wooden wall brush against his fingertips, the blue-eyed man, in a haze of lust and heat, dared to press his body fully up against Dean's, gasping at the sudden feeling of their erections sliding together through denim.

Dean too, gasped at the sensation, feeling a drop of precome stick to his drawers as his cock hardened further at the close contact. "Cas..." He murmured lowly when their kiss broke to allow for breath, lifting his hand to run it along the smooth, flat planes of muscle under the other man's damp shirt. Castiel let out a small moan, trying to keep the embarrassing sounds from slipping from his lips as Dean's fingers trailed over his torso. Instantly, as if born with the instinct, the blue-eyed man rolled his hips into the farmer's, eliciting a low groan from the both of them.

"That felt..." Castiel admitted softly. "Amazin'." Dean finished, thumb brushing unconsciously over the hardened nub of Castiel's nipple, which caused the other man to gasp softly. "Good?" The farmer asked, daring to rub the pad of his thumb over the sensitive spot again, if to only hear the sound slip from Castiel's kiss swollen lips. As a result, Dean was rewarded with not only another inciting gasp, but a roll of his friend's hips.

"Dean," Castiel breathed, kissing down the other's jaw line clumsily as he eased into a slow, grinding rhythm, their erections brushing deliciously each time, "do that again." Pinned against the wall, breath now coming in ragged pants as his cock was constantly stimulated by the rolls of Castiel's hips, Dean now took his thumb and forefinger and rolled the other man's nipple between them gently. "God, Cas," he choked, fingers stuttering at their task for a moment when he felt the blue-eyed man's lips brush against his neck, "don't stop."

Castiel nodded, having no plans of the sort and sped up his pace, the rough slide of denim barely enough to sate his needy erection, which now was leaking precome at a fairly steady pace into his drawers. Too aroused to care, the blue-eyed man ran his lips and teeth along Dean's thrumming jugular vein, tasting salty sweat and dirt, the heady flavor only bringing him closer to the release he had denied himself that morning. "Dean," he groaned, grabbing around the farmer's waist to hold him steady as his grinding pace became hard, hot, and utterly dirty, all hesitation gone in the sweaty, primal act they were currently tangled in, "I'm close."

Dean, at the low, nearly growled words from Castiel's mouth, moaned and turned his hand's attention to the opposite nipple, his balls drawing up against his body with every push of the other man's hips. Panting, he turned his head to the side to allow the blue-eyed man's teeth greater access to graze against his neck and nodded, hips stuttering in their rhythm as he felt orgasm mere seconds away. "C'mon, let go," he gasped, his words nearly cut off as he, with a particularly quick and hard thrust of Castiel's erection against his, released into his jeans, eyes squeezing shut at the gratifying feeling.

At Dean's choked out, accented words, Castiel thrust his hips but three more times before he, too, felt orgasm rush over him. Gasping out a rather loud, desperate moan, the blue-eyed man panted into the crook of the farmer's neck as his drawers were painted with his warm release, his knees nearly giving out on him.

It took a few minutes to catch their breath, the heady scent of release filling the humid air around them, but soon the two men had enough strength in their legs to stand. Dean, his crotch feeling sludgy, glanced to Castiel, who looked, in lack of a better word, absolutely debauched. His hat had been knocked off in the rush to find release, leaving his still damp, dark hair to messily compliment his lust-blown blue eyes. The farmer assumed he looked similar and gave his friend a shaky smile. "So, that was, uh," he said, feeling a blush rise up his bite-sore neck, "good."

Castiel nodded, licking his lips of Dean's salty taste. "Yeah," he responded, reaching forward to clasp the other man's hand to ensure nothing was left unsaid. "It was good. Was it too fast for ya?" Although he had gotten consent, and there was no way to take back what they had just done, he had to be sure, as their physical relationship was still fragile with hesitation.

Dean shook his head instantly, knowing the answer without having to think about it. "No, it was..." he paused, thinking for a moment. "Really nice. I like bein' that close to ya." Castiel smiled at the words, squeezing Dean's fingers between his. "Me too. So, we're good?" Dean nodded softly, leaning down to place a chaste kiss on the other man's swollen lips. "We're good."


	25. Perfect

That night, after a long day of hard work, Dean fell into bed next to Castiel, grimy and utterly exhausted. "We can go to town day after tomorrow, I think," the farmer commented, shifting awkwardly to be properly wrapped under the strong comfort of Castiel's arm. Castiel nodded, his fingers curling around Dean's shirt-covered ribs softly. "And what's the plan for tomorrow?"

Dean thought for a long minute, his brain slowed by the effects of fatigue. "I'm thinkin' we can get the coop mostly done, save for the roof. I would like to have a bath, though," he said, wrinkling his nose in distaste at the tacky, dusty feeling that covered his skin. "I would, too." Castiel agreed, suddenly aware of how dirty he was. "Do ya want to have 'em at the end of the day?" He asked, looking down to watch Dean's head bob up and down in confirmation. "That sounds fine, then. I'll give ya the tub first, and don't you worry yourself about fillin' it either, I'll get the water heated."

Dean felt love well in his chest at Castiel's consistently selfless attitude and smiled slightly. "Why are ya so good to me?" He asked lightly. Castiel, however, didn't joke back. Instead, his face suddenly fell into seriousness in a change even he couldn't explain.

"Dean," he responded, his tone somber enough to cause the farmer to sit up and look at him carefully, "I've said this before, and I'll say it again, you deserve it. You've done so much for me, and to have ya here when no one else was," he paused, looking down to the sheets to search for the right words, "well, ya saved my life, in probably more ways than even I know. In livin' with you, I've seen what it's like to know a person at their lowest, and still love 'em for it. You've shown me I can let go, and along with all that, you loved me, faults and goodness." The man boldly looked up, his blue eyes meeting green. "You picked me up and dusted me off, you were good to a man who deserved nothin'."

"Cas," Dean said, shock coloring the tone of his words, "how could ya ever think you deserve nothin'?" Castiel shook his head. "It's startin' to go away, but this past year, all I've felt was guilt over Kate, and-" Dean, at the pause in Castiel's words, felt his stomach drop, knowing what the other man stopped himself from saying. However, never one to let an issue hang, urged the other man on. "And what?"

Castiel took a breath, knowing he was about to admit and expose what he had hidden since Dean's recovery. "And you. I know it was an accident, but I thought that maybe if I had paid more attention, ridden faster, cleaned ya up better, you could still have your arm today."

At the answer, which was far more detailed than Dean had anticipated, the farmer felt as is all the air had been knocked from his lungs. Slight panic, sadness, and anger welling in him at the still-broken man lying beside him, Dean reached forward and placed his calloused hand insistently against Castiel's stubble covered, dirt flecked cheek. "Cas, you look at me this instant," he said firmly, setting his jaw.

Castiel looked up obediently at the sudden, commanding tone of Dean's words, unprepared to see the pain in the farmer's eyes. "Dean, I didn't mean to-" Dean shook his head quickly, taking a deep breath before speaking. "No, you listen here," he commanded. "You did everythin' ya could to get me out and help me," he said, the hand he had resting against Castiel's jaw softening a bit. "But ya feel guilty over it? There was nothin' else that could've been done," he reassured, speech softening when he felt he conveyed how much making his point was worth.

"I'm not gonna lie to you, I do miss my arm. I hate havin' to do things at nearly half the pace I did before, I hate havin' to remember how embarrassed I was to ask for your help in dressin' and I hate lookin' at this stump every night and hatin' how it makes me look. But even with all this... this hate, the one thing that's kept me goin' is thinkin' of you and how you risked your life to save mine. It would be selfish and damn ungrateful to dwell on my self-hatred when you tried so hard to help me. You say I've saved your life? Well, you've saved mine too," he continued, words nearly breaking as he fought back the tears now resting glistening and fat on his lower lashes.

"I would'a given up without you to look to, so don't you dare feel guilty over my arm, don't ya dare. All you've ever done is try hard and yeah, sometimes it didn't work out, but ya did your best and that's all any of us can do. Cas," Dean finished softly, thumb across Castiel's cheek, "I want you to love yourself in the same way I love ya. I want you to look at yourself in the mirror, and see everythin' I do, I want you to see the strong, brave, kind, compassionate, deserving, bright man I'm fallin' in love with, I want you to see who you really are."

Castiel, under the impact of Dean's words, let his cheek stayed cradled in the farmer's hand for a long while as tears slipped hot and bitter from his eyes, releasing all the guilt of the past year. "Dean," he eventually managed over the lump in his throat, "do ya really see that?" Dean managed a soft, sad smile and lifted Castiel's chin gently to meet his watery blue eyes. "Of course I do. Every day, in everythin' ya do."

Castiel, before he knew what he was doing, surged forward and met Dean's lips in a soft kiss, which allowed a sense of healing to flood through him, as if the mere brush of lips sealed within him all the farmer's words. "I'm glad I've got you," the blue-eyed man said softly as they parted, "to help me heal.". "And I'm glad I've got you." Dean answered, brushing away stray tears that still dared to trek through the dust on Castiel's face. "I'm glad I love ya."

Castiel shifted to lay against Dean's chest before responding, emotional and physical fatigue now weighing over him more heavily than before. "I'm glad I love ya too." With the other man's reassuring words, Dean felt himself settle into the silent peace, the end of their conversation feeling easy and natural; as everything that needed to be said had been said.

Such was the way their relationship worked. Breath wasn't wasted in sugar-coated words, fluff wasn't placed as padding for harsh, necessary tones. As with everything on the farm, nothing was wasted, not even words, for both men had grown up knowing to always treasure what they had. And treasure it they did, for laying in each other's arms, sleep getting the better of them, the two men felt not hurt or sadness run through them at the recent, frank words, but healing and acceptance. Healing, for their guilt and pain over the previous year, and acceptance, for rejecting societal norms in order to love one another. Who would have known committing the crime of loving the same sex would've been so beneficial?  
  


* * *

  
Castiel woke before Dean the next morning, now comfortably pressed against the other man. Vowing to not let his lust hinder him from his daily chores, he pressed a soft kiss to Dean's cheek and rose to go make breakfast.

Dean woke to Castiel's lips against his cheek and smiled, listening for a few minutes as the blue-eyed man shuffled about the kitchen before getting up and dressing. He joined Castiel for a hot breakfast of biscuits and gravy not long after, uttering his deceleration of the food looking good as he always had. Then, as the dishes were being done, the farmer headed out and readied their materials for the day's work, heart light despite the heavy conversation the night previous.

Castiel joined Dean not long after and soon, the two men were hard at work, both looking forward to the clean end of the day waiting for them. With this motivation, the coop was finished, save for the roof, just as the sun started to dip down below the horizon.

"I like workin' with ya." Castiel commented softly as they were packing the tools up, earning him a small smile from the farmer. "I like workin' with ya, too." Dean replied, reaching up to squeeze Castiel's sweat-damp shoulder. "Lemme put these away, you go get the first bath, no argument now." Castiel opened his mouth to refuse, but at Dean's request, simply nodded. "If you insist," he answered, turning to head back to the house.

However, as his feet began to lead him back to the cabin, his mind halted him with a thought that made his cock twitch. It was risky, to ask, but last time had seemed to go well, so a step further shouldn't turn into a problem. "Dean?"

Dean looked up at Castiel's hesitant utterance of his name and smiled. "Yeah?" Castiel, heart picking up pace, licked his lips subconsciously. "Ya know, we don't have to take separate baths. You could get in with me." Dean, at first, heard his heart, along with other parts of his weary body, scream 'yes'. However, when his brain caught up with the proceedings, it instantly rejected the idea: he couldn't be seen naked in front of Castiel. "Uh, I don't- I'm not really comfortable," he answered quickly.

Castiel felt shame burn at his cheeks at the response and nodded. "Yeah, uh, alright. I'm sorry, Dean. It was presumptuous of me to ask," he stuttered. Dean, seeing how his words were taken, shook his head and crossed the yard to the other man. "No, I didn't mean it like that, I do want to be with ya, it's just..." Castiel looked up, careful curiosity pushing question from his lips. "Just what? You can talk to me, Dean, I won't judge ya."

"I know ya won't," Dean said with a small, barely there smile. "You've just," he cleared his throat, feeling his stomach churn, "you've never seen my healed shoulder bare. It's always been covered by my shirt or a bandage or stitches and it ain't pretty. What if," he paused, unable to hold the other man's gaze with his next words, "ya see it and stop wantin' me?".

Castiel felt sadness and sympathy at Dean's self-consciousness, the trait one he had never seen until now. "Dean," he said firmly, "my love for ya is twined together with my want for ya. The day I stop lovin' ya is the day I stop wantin' ya and that day'll never come."

Dean looked up to Castiel, fully believing the other man's words, which caused comfort to wrap around his heart. "Thank ya," he said softly, taking a deep breath with the decision that was still difficult despite Castiel's recent reassurance. "I think I will join ya, then."

Castiel smiled broadly at the response, squeezing Dean's arm reassuringly. "I'll go get the water ready," he murmured, watching Dean nod. Then, with this, he grabbed the large wooden tub from where it lay near the back of the cabin and dragged it inside. Happy, yet nervous anticipation rising in him at the prospect of feeling his bare skin against Dean's for the first time, Castiel filled and placed four large, full pots of water onto the stove, waiting for them to warm as he gathered the soap.

Once the pots were near a boil, he dumped them all into the tub, his nerves getting stronger as he refilled and warmed four additional pots of clean, fresh water. The process only took the better part of an hour, and soon, Castiel had everything prepared, just in time for Dean to enter back in the cabin from cleaning up the tools and caring for the animals.

"This looks real nice." Dean said, breaking the silence that permeated the steam-filled air as his eyes fell upon the clear water. Castiel smiled and licked his lips nervously. "So, wanna just get right into it?" Dean nodded, hand going to undo his jeans. "Why not?" He said, feigning confidence as he toed off his boots, concentrated on ridding himself of all the clothes on the lower half of his body.

Soon, he was naked save for the plaid shirt that hung loosely over his torso and stood, glancing over to Castiel. What the farmer's gaze was me with was unexpected to say the least, and caused his fingers to halt at his buttons in shock. There the other man stood, completely naked from head to toe. Strong, broad shoulders, which were accented by his visible collarbone, lead seamlessly into his defined pectoral and abdominal muscles. Mouth going dry, Dean let his eyes travel further down, taking in the light dusting of hair trailing from Castiel's navel that met a thicker, more defined thatch of dark, coarse pubic hair.

Finally, the farmer stopped his wandering eyes to stop on the other man's cock, which, even from a slight distance, looked heavy and perfectly shaped to compliment the rest of the body surrounding it. Realizing he was staring, Dean tore his eyes away and found his fingers wouldn't cooperate to complete the unbuttoning of his shirt, as his hesitation had now come back full force at the example of utter physical perfection before him.

"Dean?" Castiel asked after a long stretch of unmoving silence from the farmer, who's head snapped up with the question, eyes filled with embarrassment. Seeing this, the blue-eyed man walked carefully over to the farmer and rested his hand over his. "Dean, what's wrong? We can stop, if ya like. I'm real nervous too, maybe we should wait." Dean shook his head, meeting Castiel's eyes, his peripheral vision making him all too aware of the perfection before him. "No, I want to, it's just in seein' you, you're perfect and all."

Castiel's eyes shone in sympathy as he shook his head gently. "Hey, I'm far from perfect," he responded with a smile, stepping back slightly. "Look here, Dean," he said, pointing to a jagged scar on his own abdomen, "I got that fallin' off a horse a few years back. And these," he continued, his finger now drawing attention to thin, wavy, silvery-white lines at his hips, "I got from growin' up too fast." Dean watched carefully as Castiel pointed out his imperfections and held up his hand to stop the other man. "Cas, those add to your perfection, you're beautiful."

Castiel flushed under the compliment and smiled slightly at the opportunity Dean had unknowingly given him to make a point. "Don't ya see?" He began, stepping forward to slowly move his hands to the farmer's buttons. "I find those things about me ugly, but ya see them as beautiful. It goes the other way, too. What you see as ugly on you, I see as beautiful, cause whatever ya don't like on yourself is still a part of you and I love ya, all of ya."

Dean relaxed as he saw the point in the other man's words and gave him a grateful smile, dropping his hand as Castiel slowly undid his buttons. "Alright, I see what ya mean," he admitted, swallowing nervously around nothing as the other man slipped his shirt from his shoulders and let it drop to the floor.

It was slightly shocking, at first, to let his eyes fall upon the stump consisting of mostly pale scar tissue. But in an instant, Castiel accepted the sight, and instead of focusing on the one thing Dean had been so self-conscious over, stepped back to take in the man as a whole. A lean torso laid under his gaze, leading without a hitch down to strong, work-hardened legs, between which lay the other man's cock, which remained soft in self-consciousness. Still, it was no less perfect and rested soft and thick in the thin, lighter curls of the farmer's pubic hair.

Arousal flooding through him at the sight, Castiel let his fingers trace a barely defined abdomen muscle just above Dean's navel, hearing the other man's breath hitch at the action. His fingers wanted to travel further, but he stopped himself, just then remembering the bath waiting for them. "We should get in." Dean nodded, his erection now filling as he followed Castiel to the wooden tub. Watching as the blue-eyed man sank with a satisfied sigh into the warmed water, he licked his dry lips and couldn't resist reaching between his legs to give his now hardening cock an encouraging squeeze.

Castiel caught the move and let out a shaky breath as heat rushed through him, causing his cock to give a jerk as it reached full hardness. "Just, uh, here," he stammered out, moving his feet apart to give Dean room to sit on the other side of the small tub. Dean followed the movement and nodded once again, climbing into the tub to sit facing Castiel, their torsos close as their legs fit over one another's.

Castiel, to break the awkward silence, reached for the soap and lathered it in his hands. "Can I wash ya?" He asked, careful, even with the fact they were nude in the tub together, to not overstep any comfort levels. "Yeah, of course." Dean answered with a shaky smile, his breath speeding up as Castiel reached forward to run his soapy fingers over his chest.

Remembering the incident in the barn the day previous and how good it had felt for him personally, Castiel gently rubbed his slick thumbs over Dean's nipples, eliciting a soft gasp from the farmer. Looking up, he met the other man's eyes, which were now only ringed green around large, black pupils. "You like when I do that?" He found himself asking suddenly, voice rough yet smooth from the steam-filled air. Dean pulled his lower lip subconsciously between his teeth and nodded softly, the movement barely perceptible.

Castiel smiled, tried to settle the nerves that were causing his hands to shake and fumble and ran his fingers along the smooth, soft planes of Dean's skin, wanting to memorize the sensation. However, as he moved his hands up to wash the farmer's shoulders, he felt the body beneath his fingertips stiffen. Knowing the reason, Castiel stopped for a moment, looking to Dean. "Hey, remember what I told ya, I find this perfect about ya. Don't worry, I'll be gentle, just try to relax. You can always tell me to stop if ya get too uncomfortable."

Dean nodded and closed his eyes, willing to make an effort. He didn't relax, however, when Castiel's fingers slowly brushed over his good shoulder and then his bad one; in fact, he tensed up more, feeling his erection lose stiffness quickly in his lack of confidence. After a moment of letting himself adjust to the strange feeling of someone else touching the tender place where his arm used to be, Dean forced himself to open his eyes and look, gasping quietly at the sight. Castiel's tanned fingers were ever so gently running over his marred flesh, soap suds coating the long digits as they moved over his skin. It was, to say the least, beautiful. Feeling his eyes burn at the realization, Dean looked up to Castiel, a smile flitting over his lips. "Cas," he whispered, as if any octave louder would destroy the acceptance that had just wound its way around his heart, "it's beautiful."

Castiel stilled his actions at Dean's meaningful words and smiled, eyes softening as they met the other's. "I think so, too." He answered, leaning forward to seal his lips with the farmer's. Dean kissed Castiel back slowly, their actions feeling slow and languid due to the humid air surrounding them. Feeling Castiel's hands move from his shoulders back down to his torso, Dean let a small moan slip between their slick lips and moved his own hand forward to brush over the other man's naked skin. Soft, taut, tanned skin yielded beneath his fingertips and soon, he found his hand brush the water softened yet still coarse curls dangerously close to Castiel's cock.

"Please, Dean." Castiel groaned out suddenly, breaking the kiss to open his eyes and watch as he, too, let his fingers play teasingly at the top of the other man's curly pubic hair.

Dean hesitated for but a moment before reaching through the water to boldly wrap his fingers around Castiel's erection in one move. Both men gasping simultaneously at the sudden, new feeling, Dean paused to let himself adjust. Hot, hard and impeccably soft, Castiel's erection felt much like his own, yet at the same time, vastly different. There was a slight curve at the top, and in running his finger along this curiously, Dean found the pad of his pointer dip into the slick slit at the other man's head. "Cas, you feel so nice," the farmer complimented quietly, the moment intimate and extremely trusting now they had both bared themselves, flaws and all, to each other. "You're so har-" he began in awe, cutting his own words off with an embarrassingly loud and desperate moan as Castiel finally grasped his erection.

"The sounds ya make..." Castiel breathed raggedly, hips canting forward as Dean began moving his hand up and down his shaft. Dean nodded quickly, biting his lip as Castiel began matching his movements, stroke for stroke. "Your hand, it's-" he stuttered, completely in awe at how different another person's hand could feel in comparison to his own, "please, faster," he nearly begged, feeling his balls tighten against him as he was brought close impossibly quick due to the fact he had little sexual interaction to build up stamina.

Castiel, in a similar state of closeness, rolled his hips up into Dean's grasp and complied, allowing the water to slick his way around the farmer's cock as he pumped quickly, intent on bringing his partner as much pleasure as he was receiving. Suddenly, he found he reached his goal, for with a deep, choked off cry of "Cas", Dean's hips stuttered into his hand as thick ropes of semen shot into the water. At the cry of his name, the blue-eyed man shoved his cock roughly into Dean's now almost too-tight grip and gasped, muscles tightening as his own orgasm overtook him, ripping a moan from deep in his chest.

"Cas, that... Oh." Dean murmured through deep gulps of air moments later, feeling himself soften in Castiel's grip, just as Castiel was softening in his. Castiel nodded in agreement, his chest rising and falling slowly with deep intake of oxygen. Then, as soon as he found his ability to speak once again, looked over to Dean, meeting his green eyes softly. "Dean, you're perfect, too," he said gently as an afterthought. Dean smiled and felt a swell of adoration in his chest for the man sitting across from him in the tub. "Thank ya," he answered softly.

Never before had a thanks been uttered from Dean's lips that held so much meaning. For not only was Dean thanking Castiel for the compliment, and the frankly amazing orgasm, Dean was thanking Castiel for providing him a love so great that it brought back confidence he hadn't felt for months since the accident.


	26. Trust

The next few days at the farm went well. Dean, after their cleansing night together, began his long journey towards self-image acceptance, Castiel by his side to guide him. As they always did, the boys fell into a routine of getting up, working on the chicken coop, doing various chores, having a hot meal together, and finally climbing into bed to enjoy each other's close presence for the six hours they fell into sleep. To Castiel and Dean, it was as close to perfect they had ever been.

The feeling of contentment didn't leave Dean the next Sunday morning, even as the sun beat down upon him when he took Sunshine to her grazing pasture. "You be a good girl, ya hear?" He said lightly, patting her rump to urge her on into the abundantly grassy field.

It was interesting, Dean thought, the way his land had transformed before him in the past year. It didn't change much physically, in fact it was almost the same as when he arrived to stake his claim. No, instead, he had gained a different perspective of the world around him, of his world, which mainly did consist of the farm. When Castiel arrived months before, Dean viewed his land as a tool to produce what he needed, and looked at it in a pessimistic light. How could he not, for the land he was working so hard was not producing as much product as he needed, and yet it remained, taunting, consistently large and indebting despite his every effort.

However, after Castiel's arrival, when Dean was given help, he found he could focus on the land, and in this focus produced as much product, more, even, as he had dreamed of in years previous. And now, green eyes sweeping across the tall, waving grass on the horizon, Dean viewed his land as beautiful. For the first time in years, he looked upon his property, and could finally breathe a sigh of relief, could finally whole-heartedly agree with the statement Castiel had made the first time he had come to the farm: it  _was_ beautiful.

Turning from his introspection at the thought of Castiel, Dean looked up to the sun, which was getting brighter and higher in the sky each passing minute. He had told Castiel he would be gone an hour at most, but it had been nearly two with his meandering contemplation. Cursing softly under his breath, as he had planned to arrive back in time to begin the finishing of the roof on the chicken house, Dean turned and headed back down the path to the cabin.

"Cas?" He called, ducking into the coolness of his home for a moment. Finding the blue-eyed man absent, Dean made his way out the back door out to the chicken coop, something heavy, like guilt, churning in his stomach. Knowing Castiel, he had probably began the work without him, and it wasn't fair to him. As if to confirm his suspicions the instant he thought them, Castiel rounded the corner of the coop- the now  _completed_  coop- and smiled brightly.

"Did ya call for me?" Dean looked to Castiel, eyes wide with disbelief. "Cas," he began, ignoring the previous question as he took in the perfect roofing job, "did ya finish this?" He asked lamely. The answer was obvious, as it was directly in front of him, but he had never expected the other man to do so much in such little time.

Castiel flushed slightly, shrugging uncharacteristically as discomfort crept up in him at Dean's shocked expression. "Yeah," he replied, smiling softly, "you were busy takin' care of the chores and there wasn't much else needin' to be done, so I just went ahead and finished it.".

Dean, silently, brushed softly by Castiel and crossed to the coop to inspect the new roof, which, he discovered with a welling sense of gratefulness, was perfect. "Cas," he said, turning as a smile broke over his features, "this is amazin'." Castiel flushed again under the compliment, looking to the job he'd just completed. "It's got its flaws," he admitted, ever humble in his words.

Dean was strangely taken aback by the statement and shook his head, stepping forward to take the other man's hand in his own. "It's perfect," he murmured, thumb rubbing over the dusty, calloused palm under his. Castiel felt his chest tighten at the simple, meaningful words and instantly moved forward to wrap his arms around the farmer, burying his face in the warm, stubble flecked crook of his neck. "I just wanna do right by you," he admitted.

Dean wrapped his arm around Castiel and pulled him as close as he could, the simple hug a gesture he would never take for granted, as it never failed to remind him of how much the other man meant to him. "You always have," he answered, pressing an awkwardly angled kiss to Castiel's temple. Pulling back after a moment, Dean glanced back to the now finished coop, unable to keep himself from smiling once more. "Really, Cas, thank ya. This is more than any man could ask for."

"You're welcome." Castiel replied simply, ignoring an irritation in his thumb as he packed up the tools. "Do ya still want to go to town today?" Dean nodded, leaning to help Castiel clear up. "Yeah, I'm thinkin' we can pick up the supplies to fix the side of the cabin. Shouldn't take more than a day or two of work, it's a pretty simple job." "Alright, that's fine." Castiel answered, content with anything Dean needed or wanted to do as he always had been. "Do ya want me to pack a dinner for us?"

Dean thought for a moment, slinging the tool bag over his good shoulder. "Yeah, that would be good," he affirmed. "I'll go put these away and hitch up the wagon. Meet ya out in the barn?" Castiel, in turn, nodded, stepping forward on an impulse to give Dean a soft, chaste kiss. "Don't trouble yourself too much with that wagon."

Dean smiled, savoring the lingering feeling Castiel's lips left on his. "I'll be fine, don't worry about it," he replied, watching Castiel walk towards the house for a few seconds before turning to complete his own task. He was slightly wary about going into town, due to his now absent arm his friends had yet to glance upon, but with the events of the previous night, he felt himself fighting back the self-piteous, frightened thoughts. He was different, and that was alright, because Castiel found his difference beautiful.

Comfort spreading through his chest as the warm bloom of alcohol would, Dean set about hitching up the horses to the wagon. It took longer, now, with only one arm to do it with, but he still got the task completed, just as Castiel entered back into the barn.

"Did ya have any trouble?" Castiel asked, not to infantilize Dean, but to kindly ensure he wasn't having trouble that may cause him to once again beat himself down over. Dean, at the open tone of Castiel's words that conveyed his meaning, nodded. "Nah, Dan decided to cooperate today," he joked, saying in his own way 'yes'.

Castiel, used to Dean's personality and how he answered serious questions, felt a smile flit over his lips and crossed the barn to the wagon, setting their lunch inside before climbing up, the farmer not far behind. Soon, they were jostling away from the farm for the first time in months, finally able to do so without snow and ice to hinder their way. Breathing in the fresh, salubrious air around him, Castiel settled back in the seat, placing a hand on Dean's knee in place of holding his hand, as it was absent on this side.

Dean smiled at Castiel's hand on his knee, curiously noticing the slight flush of warmth that went through him at the simple brush of fingers. Shrugging it off, he turned to look at Castiel, who had his head leaned back onto the wooden bench seat, blue eyes closed, lips parted in an almost-smile that proved endearing. And suddenly, green eyes fixed on the other man's face, it hit Dean: he  _loved_  him. It wasn't as if he hadn't already known or acknowledged this, it was simply one of those inevitable times when one suddenly became self-aware, suddenly realized everything they were in one breath. And Dean, Dean loved Castiel, loved him softly yet fiercely, slowly yet quickly and in that moment, jostling to town, slightly dusty air swirling around them, he knew in his heart he would never stop loving him.

Suddenly feeling the need to express just this, Dean smiled at Castiel. "I love ya," he said simply, the three words alone not adequate enough to convey what he was just feeling. However, in the heavy, meaningful tone he used, they suddenly said everything he needed them to.

Castiel, at the sudden words, cracked an eye open to peek over at Dean, a smile stretching his lightly chapped lips. "I love ya, too," he replied, feeling something in the air that wasn't previously there, a meaning, a bonding that held an intensity he had never felt before. "I really do," he added, sitting up to press a soft kiss to Dean's cheek.

Both the men wished the moment longer, but knew that once they crossed out of the farm's property line, they were in open, dangerous territory, territory in which their lives were in danger should they so much as embrace each other. So, they shifted to sit on their respective sides of the wagon the rest of the ride, a somewhat sad acceptance filling the warm air between them as they entered into town.

"I'm gonna go negotiate prices for the lumber." Dean informed, hopping out of the wagon after Castiel, who was tying the horses to a post. Castiel nodded, cinching the knot in the reigns before turning fully to Dean. "Do ya need any help?" Dean shook his head, pointedly ignoring an open, gaping stare he was receiving from a woman across the walk. "I'll be fine, you can go do shoppin' if ya need to, there are men workin' at the lumber yard who'll help me load up the wagon." "That sounds fine. Meet ya back here in forty?" Castiel asked, only turning to leave after Dean gave him an affirmative nod.

Walking down the now familiar town, Castiel looked around to the different shops, wondering what he could do with the money he'd brought. He had quite a bit of money now from last year's harvest, as he hadn't spent it on a trip back East. A few days before, he set aside half of it into savings, not wanting to get caught in a situation mirroring the desperate one he'd had with Dean the past year. The other half, he currently had sitting in his jean pocket, ready to be spent. On what exactly, he wasn't quite sure.

Spotting the telegraph office, he suddenly realized his need to send another telegram back home to inform his friends and family of his plan to stay, and entered the office for a second time. The process didn't take long and soon, Castiel found himself back outside, short only a few pennies. He considered for a moment heading back to the wagon to help load up the lumber, but soon snuffed out the idea when his gaze fell upon a building at the end of the small stretch of town that read  _Campbell and Co Livery and Livestock Sale_. Suddenly unable to get an idea out of his head, Castiel headed into the large shop.

The negotiations on lumber prices had gone well and Dean ended up getting twice the amount of lumber he needed for only half the price. With a sense of satisfaction that was only dampened slightly by everyone's stares at his absent arm, the farmer soon had his purchase loaded up and ready to go in the wagon, leaving only the task of finding Castiel. Slightly puzzled as to why the other man hadn't met him yet, Dean wiped at his brow and looked around, spotting the blue-eyed man after a moment. However, instead of having his arms full of paper wrapped parcels, Castiel's arms appeared to be full of some sort of cages.

Castiel, at the sight of Dean over a slightly foul-smelling cage, smiled, reaching the farmer in a short minute. "Hello, Dean," he greeted, anticipation thrumming through him at the big reveal of his purchase.

Once Castiel had set the cages down on the ground, Dean finally was able to gain a closer look, his chest constricting instantly at the sight: there before him sat five fat, healthy looking hens and one cocky-looking rooster. "Cas..." Dean breathed in disbelief. "How did ya manage this?" Castiel flushed and smiled happily, gesturing to the store he had come from. "I had extra money from when I saved up for my trip and figured it would be a nice thing to do for ya, since ya seemed pretty down about the other chickens."

Dean, the action affecting him far more than he would have expected, suddenly stepped forward without thinking and grabbed Castiel's hand. "Thank ya," he murmured, caught up in the moment. However, a mere second later his mind caught up with his body and he wrenched his hand back as if burned, quickly looking around to see if anyone had noticed.

Castiel, at Dean's sudden action, felt comfort as well, comfort that lasted mere seconds before his heart dropped into his stomach when he realized what they had just done. Nearly mirroring Dean, he, too, looked around, blue eyes wide with panic that someone had seen.

Thankfully for the two, there were only a few people out about the town in that particular moment, none who were paying attention to them. Castiel, seeing this, cleared his throat and loaded up the chickens quickly, his hands not ceasing in shaking until they both were back up on the wagon, heading back towards the farm.

"Cas, look," Dean sighed, regret and apology ingrained into his every syllable, "I'm sorry. I wasn't thinkin' and it just meant so much what ya did. No one's ever done somethin' that nice for me.". Castiel turned to offer Dean a shaky smile, pushing away his slight anger in understanding now where the farmer was coming from. "It's alright," he replied without hesitation. "I'm just happy to know we're safe and that ya liked it.".

Dean, reflecting on how Castiel never ceased his kind, understanding manner, felt relief flood through him. Relief, that no one had noticed, relief that they still had that short moment to cherish. And in this relief, Dean felt adoration well in his chest once more, knowing now more than ever Castiel would never hurt him. For the first time in a long time, Dean found he held complete trust in someone.

It felt as if the world had been lifted from his shoulders.


	27. New

They were nearly halfway past Dean's property line, almost to the cabin, when the farmer suddenly halted the wagon in the shade near a small grove of trees.

Castiel, puzzled, looked up to Dean, who was leaning down to retrieve the dinner basket at their feet. "What're we doin'?" Dean shrugged, smiling at the other man. "I figured we could rest a bit since it's Sunday, have a picnic before we have to unload the wagon. What do ya think?" Castiel instantly approved of the idea, and nodded, hopping down from the wagon with Dean. "What about Dan and Charlie? Don't they need to be watered?" He asked, patting Charlie on the muzzle. Dean shook his head. "I watered 'em for a while in town. They should be fine here in the shade, besides, we shouldn't take too long."

Castiel, instantly trusting Dean had cared for the animals properly, felt the smile return fully to his lips and rounded the wagon to join him. "Right here?" Dean shook his head. "Here, this way," he redirected, shouldering through a small thatch of trees, picnic basket swinging from his hand.

Castiel followed Dean willingly, halting when he saw where they had arrived. Green, budding trees encircled them almost completely, shadowing most of the green grass present beneath their feet. Off to the right lay a tiny creek, about the span of his hand, so small it was barely flowing. However small, though, it still perfumed the air with a fresh, humid scent of damp earth and water, of foliage and flowery buds, a scent Castiel knew but had never experienced so strongly before.

"Dean, this is beautiful," he breathed, repeating himself from a year earlier when he first arrived at the farm. Dean smiled under the compliment, looking around at the spot he had never shared with anyone else. "I've always loved it here." He explained, thinking back to all the times he had arrived there when the weight of his stress became too much to bear. Pushing away the memory of all the negative emotions he had experienced, Dean sat in the grass and patted a cool spot next to him. "C'mon, take a load off," he offered. Castiel, knowing he could never refuse, sat close to Dean, his mind filling with an inexplicable peace, as if in that moment nothing could ever hurt him.

They ate a light dinner of biscuits, blueberry jam and cool, fresh cream, each bite tasting better than the previous as both men enjoyed the soft rustle of leaves around them in the breeze. All too soon, both stomachs content and full, Dean packed up the small amount of leftover food and took the opportunity to lay down on his back, arm tucked up under his head as a makeshift pillow.

Castiel simply watched Dean for a while, watched as the small patches of sunlight that filtered through the leaves above danced over his serene face. He was beautiful, to say the least. But not beautiful in the way nature was, for that beauty was purely physical. Dean certainly held physical beauty, but he held a different kind of beauty as well, one that Castiel knew was rare to find: Dean Winchester held a beautiful soul. He was a kind, open man, who tried his best to be good to everyone around him. He would easily sacrifice anything for the sake of another and did so without hesitation. He was selfless and humble, caring and patient; he was, down to his very soul, beautiful.

Dean, at Castiel's unmoving silence, opened his eyes and looked to the other man. "Aren't ya gonna lay down?" He asked softly, smiling. Castiel returned the expression and quickly moved to lay close to Dean, his head finding its way almost automatically to the farmer's chest. Listening to his heartbeat and the slow, steady rate of his breath, Castiel sighed in contentment and let his fingers gently trace random pattern into the farmer's abdomen. "Do ya ever wish there wasn't work to be done?" He asked softly, breaking the light silence around them.

Dean chuckled, the movement jostling Castiel's head ever so slightly. "Oh yeah," he replied, taking his arm out from under his head so he could run his fingers through the other man's short dark hair. "All the time. But workin' with you is always nice, so I can't complain." Castiel smiled and relaxed under Dean's soft touch, the physicality of their relationship coming easily now. "I like workin' with you, too."

Dean, at the answer, smiled. "Hey," he said softly, readjusting his position, "c'mere.". Castiel complied almost instantly, moving his head off of Dean's chest so he could be face to face with the farmer. "Yeah?" Dean took in Castiel's open, soft blue eyes for a moment before he cupped his stubble covered cheek. "Just wanted to see ya," he answered, thumb rubbing softly over the other man's lower lip to mirror one of their very first encounters.

Castiel chucked, placing his hand over Dean's. "You see me every day," he replied, leaning forward naturally to press their lips together. Dean let out a soft noise of contentment at the sweet exchange and pulled back slightly to rest their foreheads together. "I guess I'll just never get enough of ya," he replied. Normally, the words would've be sappy, sickly sweet like too much syrup poured over pancakes. But, somehow, coming from Dean in that very moment, they meant the world, and showed every bit of love the Winchester held for Castiel.

Seeing this, Castiel smiled ever so slightly and kissed Dean deeply, responding in his own way, silently showing how much he'd appreciated the comment. Before long, the chaste kiss between the two turned heated, the slick, quiet sound of lips sliding together the only thing filling the air between them.

Pulling back for a breath of air, Castiel looked down to Dean, his gaze heated to counter the cool breeze floating around them. "Do ya want this?" He asked, running his hand softly along the farmer's abdomen to convey his meaning. Dean, at the question, felt his breath hitch ever so slightly and nodded without hesitation. "Yeah, Cas," he breathed. "Please, just- touch me," he said, face reddening at the frank words he hadn't meant to slip out.

Castiel, however, wasn't embarrassed at the wanton words. Instead, he found his already filling erection twitch at them eagerly. "Anythin' ya want," he replied, relishing the surprised look on Dean's face. Slowly, he ran his hand down lower on Dean's abdomen, eventually brushing his fingertips over the farmer's jean-clad erection.

Dean gasped at the touch, hips bucking up into the unfamiliar, solid heat of the other man's palm. Castiel, fascinated by the reaction he got, allowed himself to explore the different groves and curves of the farmer's erection, from the ridge of the head to the smooth base. Breathing rate now increased, he licked his lips and gently undid Dean's suspenders, unbuttoning his fly with trembling fingers not a moment later.

"Lift your hips up for me," he requested, Dean doing as he was asked in seconds, allowing room for his jeans to be slipped down, freeing his erection. "You're gorgeous." Castiel breathed after the jeans were slipped off, unable to keep his finger from tracing the now exposed, glistening slit. Cursing, Dean bit at his lower lip, trying to keep his reactions schooled as to not break the fragile, almost sacred feel of the air around them. It was difficult to say the least, as he had never been touched in this way before by anyone else, had never experienced any hand but his own before Castiel.

Castiel bit at the inside of his cheek at the reaction he got, finding pleasure in simply providing Dean pleasure. On an impulse he wouldn't be able to later decipher, Castiel leaned down and began to place slow, sloppy kisses at Dean's hip bones, the scent of the farmer's arousal more prominent now as he slid his hand along the exposed length.

"Dean," he began, hesitation clear in his eyes with the question he wasn't sure was proper, "do ya mind-" he continued, feeling as if every part of him was flushed red in embarrassment, "do ya mind if I taste you?" Dean's head snapped up to look at Castiel once the question had been asked, the simple sentence causing his cock to jerk under Castiel's warm hand. "My god," he breathed, never before considering it an option. "Yeah, Cas, we can try that."

Castiel felt saliva pool under his tongue at the permission and met Dean's eyes for a moment, communicating silently their mutual willingness to explore before he leant down. It was strange, the first time he let his tongue slide over the smooth, salty head of the farmer's erection. It tasted like nothing he'd ever experienced before, musky and heady, bitter and salty, and somehow  _addicting_ . Suddenly wanting more, he licked again at the slit, which was now leaking  precome at a fairly steady pace.

Dean, in short, was gone to the world. The cool grass beneath him, gone. The trees above him, gone. The air around him, gone, the only thing he knew in that moment being the rough-smooth texture of Castiel's tongue running experimentally over his erection. Never before, in all his days, had Dean felt anything comparable to it, and, he thought hazily, didn't think anything else would ever compare. At least, that was his conclusion until Castiel's lips wrapped slowly around the head of his cock, enveloping him in wet heat. Letting out a surprised grunt, Dean forgot himself in the moment and bucked his hips up from the grass.

Castiel, at Dean's sudden movement that moved his cock to unexpectedly hit the back of his throat, pulled off with a slight sputter, coughing. Dean, at the sound of Castiel nearly gagging, instantly sat up, guilt washing over him. "Oh, Cas, I'm sorry," he rushed out, reaching out to put a hand on the other man's shoulder. "Are ya alright? Do ya need to go get water?" Castiel, catching his breath, gave Dean a soft smile and shook his head. "I'm fine, it's alright," he answered, chuckling.

Dean, seeing Castiel was in fact alright, chuckled as well, an embarrassed flush coming across his face. "Sorry. It just felt really good," he explained. Castiel looked to Dean, a loving smile coming over his face. "I understand," he said, pressing on the farmer's chest lightly. "Why don't we try it again?"

Dean laid back, nodding eagerly as his erection came back to full hardness. Castiel, as before, went back to the task slowly. Soon, he was moving his lips around the girth of Dean's erection, one palm helping to keep his hips steady, the other gently fondling the farmer's balls. Relishing in the heavy, heady scent surrounding him as he sucked diligently at Dean's cock, Castiel moved his hand around the farmer's sack, exploring every curve curiously. However, he soon became too eager about the task, causing his ring finger to accidentally slip behind and rub at Dean's perineum.

Dean gasped at the sudden sensation and felt his every muscle stiffen with the slip up of Castiel's finger, a soft moan coming from his lips. Castiel's face reddened as Dean stiffened and quickly placed his finger back where it was supposed to be. However, at a moan from the farmer, he looked up in surprise.

"Cas," Dean breathed, too lost in his haze of lust to care about modesty, "that felt real good," he admitted. Castiel, inexplicable arousal flushing through him at the Winchester's reaction, licked around the head of Dean's cock in response and let a curious finger trace back to stroke at his perineum.

"C-cas- so close..." Dean whimpered, using every ounce of strength in his body to keep his hips on the ground as Castiel's mouth stroked in time with his finger. Then, suddenly, the sensation nearly tripled when the other man's finger caught on his rim, causing his back to arch up off the cool grass with sudden orgasm that caught even him by surprise.

Holding Dean's hips steady as his orgasm took it's course, Castiel felt release fill his mouth, the taste bitter and salty as it coated his tongue. Pulling off the farmer's softening length, Castiel, not knowing what else to do, swallowed down the thick come, the lingering taste proving to be a motivator for his own orgasm. Looking to Dean, who was panting heavily, flushed and sweaty, Castiel roughly yanked down his jeans and pulled his erection out, jerking it but three times before he, too, was coming with a shout.

When he was finally able to move again, Dean beckoned to Castiel, who wiped his hand on the grass before collapsing by his side. "That was," Castiel began, clearing his slightly sore throat, "interestin'." Dean flushed in embarrassment and nodded, fingers finding their way back to stroke through Castiel's now damp hair. "I think I'd wanna see what that was all about," he admitted.

Castiel nodded in agreement, sitting up slightly to look at Dean's reddening face. "It's nothin' to be ashamed over," he said softly, giving Dean a chaste kiss. "It's just somethin' new is all." New, as the two men had discovered over the past year, wasn't always bad. In fact, new experiences often lead to happiness, as their love for one another had.


	28. Happy Birthday

"Are ya alright? Ya seem different this mornin'." Dean commented over his bite of a honey-slathered biscuit. At the start of the morning, he didn't think much of the far off look in the other man's eye, as sometimes Castiel could be a bit off until he woke fully. But, this time, it was different. Ever since they had headed to bed the previous night after putting away the lumber, housing the chickens, and eating an early supper, Castiel had seemed to retreat into a shell of sorts.

It was barely there, and if anyone else would have been interacting with Castiel, they wouldn't have noticed. But, to the farmer, it was clear as day, and after nearly a full morning of noticing, he had to ensure that Castiel was alright, that they were alright. They had, after all, taken a step further the previous day. Perhaps that was what was bothering Castiel.

Castiel looked up from his plate, considering for a moment simply answering with a nod and a smile to move on with the day. But, he knew it wouldn't work and doing so wouldn't be fair to Dean. So, taking a sip of coffee, he cleared his throat to speak. "I'm fine, it's nothin' to be worried about," he answered with a barely there smile. "Just dealin' with some memories today.".

Dean's eyes softened at the admission, and he set down his food to reach over the table and place his hand on top of Castiel's. "Anythin' ya want to get off your chest?" Castiel, at the offer, again, wanted to refuse. But, at the feeling of Dean's strong, calloused fingers curling around his, he felt a tug in his chest, an urge to share. Maybe it would be easier to deal with if Dean knew. "It's just my birthday today," he replied, offering another, stronger smile. "For the few years we were courtin' and married, Kate used to make a big deal outta this day. She had a party and a huge meal each year, I guess it's just a bittersweet memory now."

Dean, at the admission, looked sadly to Castiel, squeezing his hand. "It'll get easier as the years pass," he reassured softly, knowing from experience important dates such as birthdays and holidays became easier with time. "How old are ya turnin'?" He asked, knowing the answer already from their previous chats they had throughout winter, but figuring it would be best to take Castiel's mind off the sad aspects of the day.

Castiel smiled, the action more genuine now he realized what Dean was trying to do. "Twenty-one," he replied, turning his hand over to clasp the farmer's hand fully in his. Dean smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners ever so slightly. "You're gettin' up there, Novak," he joked, trying to make light of the situation. Light, to try and make Castiel feel better about his birthday, not to invalidate the other man's feelings. Hoping this was conveyed, Dean rose from the table and began clearing the dishes, shaking his head when Castiel tried to stand and do it himself. "I got the dishes today," he said, placing a soft kiss on top of the other man's head as he passed by on his way to the sink.

Castiel, feeling slightly better as he knew he would if he told Dean what was wrong, stood after a moment, putting away the honey jar. "Do ya want me to go and get the supplies?" He asked, mind wandering to the pile of lumber sitting outside his damaged room. Dean, who was at the sink, plate pressed against one side of the tub so he could wash it properly, nodded. "Yeah, that would be good.". Castiel smiled softly, going over to grab his hat off the peg, their switched positions feeling strange that morning. Strange, but not unwelcome, for a change in routine was always nice, even if it was just for one day. "I'll meet ya out there."

With that, Castiel was gone, leaving Dean to finish up the last of the dishes. Doing so in less time than he had originally anticipated, the farmer dried his hand and went to grab his hat off the peg, donning it as he headed out back. Looking with a satisfied grin at the completed coop which now held chickens, he turned to the damaged wall of the cabin, approaching it. He would have to get a closer look to see exactly where the repairs would have to be made, as the tornado in no way had made their work clean and simple.

Running his fingers along the rough wood, Dean quickly calculated where to place the new boards, tips and tricks his father had given him as a boy running through his head. Satisfied with his quick mental summary of the work to be done, Dean began to step back, planning to go and help Castiel haul supplies before his eye caught on something buried beneath an old, loose board that had been ripped from the wall during the storm.

Curiosity peaking, he stepped closer and squatted down to investigate, fingers pinching the edge of the unknown object to pull it out from under the wood. Eyebrows furrowing at the thin, mud covered paper now in his possession, Dean rubbed it on his jeans and brought it back up for inspection. What he saw next was the complete opposite of what he was expecting and instantly he knew what it was. There, staring back at him with just a hint of a smile, was who he could only assume was Kate.

"Oh, Cas..." He breathed, eyes flicking over the young woman's face. Her long hair was pinned up to allow a few pieces to fall loosely around her face, giving her a mature yet youthful appearance. Her lips were full and turned up ever so slightly at the corners, providing a mere preview to how radiant her smile could get. But, the one thing that stuck out more than anything to Dean were her eyes. Bright, even in the dull light of the camera, they held such hope and life, even a sense of wonder. The photo must have been taken a few weeks before she left to travel west with Castiel, Dean concluded with a pang of sadness at the excitement hiding behind her gaze.

Dean, heart now feeling as if it was in his stomach at seeing who Castiel had lost, pocketed the picture gently to ensure it wouldn't get wrinkled as an idea slowly formed in his head. However, he didn't have long to mull over his sudden thought, as Castiel was rounding the corner, tools in hand.

"Ready to get started?" Dean asked, placing on a neutral expression as he helped the other man place the armful down, readying for the day's work. Castiel nodded, giving Dean a smile. "Yeah, let's get to it.". The work didn't take as long as Dean expected, and with Castiel by his side, the time flew, the wall only taking the day to repair fully.

Castiel, wiping at his brow, stepped back to look at their work, a smile coming over his face. "That was real easy work," he commented. Dean nodded and returned the other man's smile, looking to the horizon a moment later, the idea he had earlier coming to the front of his mind. "We can leave these tools here 'till tomorrow, since it's almost supper time." Castiel, too, looked to the horizon, finding the sun waning in the sky. "It is, isn't it? Looks like we worked right through dinner," he agreed. "Do ya want to reheat that soup we had last night?" "Yeah," Dean replied, "but don't ya worry yourself over it. I'll get dinner tonight. Could ya bring Sunshine in and feed her and the horses?"

Castiel looked to Dean curiously, puzzled by the sudden request. However, willing always to do as Dean asked, nodded, figuring the farmer may have just wanted some time alone in the house. "Of course," he replied, moving to give Dean a soft kiss. "I'll be back in about an hour."

Dean nodded, smiling through the kiss before Castiel left. Then, as soon as the other man had rounded the corner of the cabin, he set about preparing dinner. Getting the pot of soup from the root cellar to the kitchen was a bit difficult, but was nothing he couldn't handle, and soon he had a fire roaring in the belly of the stove to heat up their leftover dinner.

Satisfied with the easy preparation of the supper, he set about the plan he'd been formulating ever since the morning, the plan to celebrate Castiel's birthday. Still comfortable in the kitchen despite the year he'd stopped using it, Dean quickly dug through Castiel's ever growing stack of recipe cards, finding the one he needed easily. Excitement beginning to fill him at the thought of making Castiel happy, even with the simple celebration of his birthday, Dean measured out flour, baking powder, butter, sugar and milk. Creaming the butter and sugar together was fairly simple despite the bowl slipping once or twice away from him until he pinned it against his torso, and in a few minutes he was ready for the next step.

Looking to the card, his eyes fell upon the gently scribed word of 'eggs', his stomach dropping. What if they didn't have eggs? When he'd checked the coop the night previous, the hens hadn't yet settled down, and with the nervous way they were behaving he had figured their egg production wouldn't pick up until the next week. Sighing at his own oversight of this detail, Dean frowned and headed out the back door, some tiny spark of hope fueling his check of the coop. His efforts, much to his relieved surprise, were rewarded. By some stretch of a miracle, an egg was resting on the hay in a shadowed back corner of the coop. A smile breaking over his face, Dean retrieved the precious staple for his cake and walked quickly back to the cabin, wanting to finish up before Castiel returned.

While the recipe called for one more egg, Dean was sure he could slip by with just one and soon had the ingredient mixed in, the dry ingredients following it. Sticking a finger in the finished batter, the farmer tested the taste, humming at the sweet mixture that seemed as good as he remembered. Oiling a pan he had to dig from the back of one of the cabinets, he poured the batter carefully and tapped the pan on the counter a few times to settle the cake. Satisfied, he opened the belly of the stove and set the pastry to bake on the rack within. Guessing Castiel would be back just as the cake was done, Dean stirred the now simmering soup and set it to the back of the stove to keep warm, sitting at the table to wait.

Castiel gave Dan a pat on his muzzle, murmuring a few soft words to the animal before exiting the barn. Latching up the large building for the night, he turned and headed back towards the cabin, his stomach giving a growl at a thought of the food awaiting him. Removing his hat once he had arrived, Castiel opened the door and hung the accessory on the peg, eyes sliding over to where Dean was setting something on the counter. Curious, Castiel took a second glance, a closer look, his heart catching in his throat when he saw what Dean had prepared: there, on the counter, golden and springy, sat a cake. "Dean?" He asked softly, the simple name entailing thousands of unspoken inquiries.

Dean smiled at Castiel's surprised reaction and served up the soup before responding. "I figured we could have a small celebration of our own," he said, adjusting the full bowls on the table unnecessarily as he felt a blush rise up the back of his neck. "Ya said earlier how Kate used to throw big parties, so I figured something small would be a nice transition," he rambled, finding an explanation necessary.

Castiel smiled softly through the tears that had sprung to his eyes, stepping across the room to press his lips gently against Dean's, silencing his explanation. "This is perfect," he said once they'd parted. Dean beamed at Castiel's reaction, pulling out the other man's chair to offer him a place to sit. "Why don't we eat?" Castiel smiled and took the chair so politely offered to him, watching Dean in open admiration as he sat and began to eat. "Really, thank ya," he said softly, taking a bite. Dean nodded with a smile and swallowed down his food. "Anythin' to see you smile."

Castiel blushed slightly at the sweet words, and turned back to his meal, the happy feeling not leaving him as he ate through two bowls of soup, mindful to leave room for the cake Dean had so lovingly made.

As soon as bowls were scraped clean, Dean rose and cleared the table, serving up the now cooled cake not long after in almost eager anticipation to see Castiel's reaction. Castiel, as soon as a large wedge of pastry was set before him, picked up his fork and took a small bite of the dessert, groaning at the light taste. "Damn, Dean... You can really cook," he said with a smile. Dean chuckled at Castiel's reaction, relief flooding through him that the cake had turned out despite the lack of one egg. "Thank ya," he replied, starting into his own portion.

After two more slices for each man, they both sat back at the table, sated and full with the meal. Dean, after a few minutes of comfortable silence which consisted only of his fingers twined with Castiel's, sat up and pulled his hand gently away, reaching into his pocket. "Cas?" Castiel looked up at the sound of his name, watching as Dean pulled something from his pocket and smoothed it on his knee below the table. "Yeah?" He answered, curious as to what the farmer was up to.

"I figured now's as good a time as any to give ya this," Dean said, holding out the small picture for Castiel to take, "it bein' your birthday and all." Castiel, as soon as Dean held out the small photograph, knew what the Winchester was giving to him, disbelief coloring his every feature as he took the object with trembling fingers. "How...?" He breathed, unable to say much more due to the lump in his throat as Kate gazed back at him once more.

Dean placed a comforting hand upon Castiel's bicep before responding. "I found it this mornin' by the wall, under an old piece of the lumber. It must've gotten stuck there during the storm." Castiel let out a shaky breath, wiping at his tearing eyes with no avail as they spilled over. "Dean, this means so much," he breathed after a moment, standing abruptly to round the table and lean down to hug the farmer. "I don't know what to say."

Dean, touched by Castiel's reaction, smiled softly and stood to embrace the other man fully. "I'm just glad you've got her back," he replied, his voice nearly a whisper. "She was real beautiful, Cas." Castiel pulled away from the hug after a long while, holding up the picture so he and Dean could both look at it. "She was," he said shakily, offering Dean a smile.

So, there Castiel stood, Dean's arm wrapped around him, the priceless photograph now safely in his grasp once again. Never before had he thought one person could care so much for another, but at the actions of Dean that day and everyday previous, it was confirmed: Dean would do everything to see him happy. And the comfort, the healing that simple thought provided Castiel as he buried his face in Dean's stubble-rough neck, was immeasurable.

"Happy birthday, Cas." Dean murmured, pressing a kiss to Castiel's temple. "I love ya."


	29. Rumors

Dean and Castiel were at breakfast the next morning, sharing a single egg over crispy potatoes, when Dean announced he would be going to town.

"Why?" Castiel asked softly, forking a large chunk of potato. "Did ya forget somethin'?" Dean shook his head, finishing off his meal. "No, nothin' like that. I tried to get the seed for plantin' last time but the shipment hadn't come in. The man said they'd have it in by today, and since plantin's already a week overdue, I'd like to get somethin' in the ground as soon as possible." Castiel nodded, rising to clear the dishes. "Do ya need me to go with ya?"

"Not unless you need somethin'." Dean replied, stretching leisurely before getting up. "I'll take the wagon and get it loaded up. Won't be a long trip, I'll be back a little after dinner.". Castiel gave Dean another nod of confirmation and smiled. "I'll make dinner a little later, then. I've got to do the laundry, too, so if ya have clothes to bring out I'll get 'em washed."

Dean returned Castiel's smile and ducked into his room for a moment, grabbing all his dirty clothing, which wasn't much now they'd lost half of what they had previously due to the tornado. "Do ya think we can pull through 'till fall with these clothes?" He asked once he dumped his armful unceremoniously on one of the kitchen chairs. "Yeah, I don't see why not." Castiel replied, scrubbing at a stubborn spot on the pan he had used.

Dean, with the confirmation, crossed the room to Castiel and snaked an arm around his waist. "I'll be back soon," he said softly, pressing his lips to Castiel's cheek. Castiel leaned into the gesture, a smile flitting over his features. "Don't be too long, now," he answered, abandoning his dish washing for a moment to turn to Dean and give him a soft, chaste kiss. "And be safe." Dean reached up and stroked his thumb along Castiel's cheek for a moment, marveling silently at the perfection that seemed to surround them now. "I always am," he replied gently, "'cause it means I can get back to you." Castiel felt a blush creep up the back of his neck and smiled, patting Dean's chest. "Go on, now, no time like today." Dean gave Castiel another quick kiss before complying, turning to make his way to the front door, donning his hat. "I'll be back," he called over his shoulder, waiting for Castiel's small hum of confirmation before he exited.

Heading out to the barn, Dean's heart felt lighter than he could ever remember it. For, he thought while hitching the horses up to the wagon, he had never known such happiness as this. Being beside Castiel, being able to finally show the other man how much he cared, it was liberating. It was as if all the pain of his past was erased, as if nothing could ever shatter their perfect world together. The feeling of joy didn't fade as he drove to town, the comforting normalcy of a dusty breeze on his face only adding to the goodness around him.

Soon, he arrived in town, steering his wagon to park near the seed store. Again, he ignored the strange glances he got from people around him in the now busy time of day, opting to get in, get his supplies, and leave. There was no reason why people's judgment of his physical appearance should affect him, he decided as he entered the cool store. However, being in town this time was different. He wasn't simply getting open stares of curiosity and pity at the lack of his arm, the looks were filled with anger. This puzzled the farmer, but was nothing he couldn't brush off, seeing as it was only a few people. But, as he was buying the seed he needed for the year's crops, the looks only grew in number, the clerk at the counter even acting rude towards him.

"What on earth?" Dean muttered to himself, loading up his purchase when the same clerk came out of the store and approached him. "Excuse me?" The man asked, keeping a slight distance. Dean turned after hefting the last bag up onto the wagon, now thoroughly puzzled by the actions of everyone in town. "Yeah?"

The clerk hesitated for a moment on his words, sizing Dean up before he spoke again. "We're afraid we're gonna have to ask you not to come back to our store," he said slowly, almost speaking in a tone that suggested Dean was stupid. "What do ya mean? I've always bought my seed here, have been for years." Dean defended, not deterred by the man's tone. The clerk nodded. "We know," he replied patronizingly, "but we just can't be showin' we're a business that serves your kind.".

Dean, feeling anger and confusion battle for recognition within him, looked to the man incredulously. "My kind?" He asked, appalled at the fact he would be denied service simply because of what he assumed was his absent arm. "What in the hell is that supposed to mean?" The clerk shook his head. "I won't get into it. Personally, I don't even wanna think about it," he said with a grimace of utter disgust, turning to head back into the store. "Wait, then where am I gonna get my seed for plantin'? You're the only store in town." Dean called, shocked anger coloring his words.

The clerk turned for a but a second, shrugging. "You'll have to order it privately by means of the postal office. There isn't anythin' else I can offer ya. Just, please, don't come back." Then, with that, the rude man went back into the store, leaving Dean utterly floored.

"What the hell!" Dean suddenly burst out, his anger coming to a head at the unfair treatment he was receiving. Turning back to his wagon, he strode quickly to the front, beginning to untie the horse's reigns from a post when someone tapped him on the shoulder. Turning, he was met with the sight of Gabriel, his expression hesitant.

"Dean? Can I talk to ya?" He asked carefully. Dean, taking a deep breath to calm his anger, looked to his friend of many years and nodded. "Yeah, no problem." "So, uh," Gabriel began, eyes flicking to the feed store before returning to Dean, "what just happened right there, what do ya think caused that?". Dean, confused now more than ever, frowned. "My arm," he answered, voice clipped in anger.

Gabriel, too, frowned and shook his head, stepping closer to lower his voice so their conversation would be somewhat private. "It wasn't." He replied, trepidation clear in his whiskey-golden eyes. "Look, I'm just gonna be straight up with ya here. There have been rumors spreadin' around town since you were last here, rumors about you and Castiel. Apparently someone saw you two holdin' hands or somethin'," he explained, words getting awkward and fumbled. "Anyway, that's how the rumors started, rumors you two are, uh, ya know," he continued, clearing his throat, "homosexuals," he finished, whispering the word in disgust, as if saying it any louder would kill him. "Most of the stores here said they wouldn't serve you or Castiel."

Dean, at the information, felt all the color drain from his face, felt his stomach drop to his toes. He opened his mouth to respond, but found no words coming, and could only stand there looking to Gabriel with an expression of utter horror.

Gabriel, at Dean's reaction, nodded. "I know, disgustin' thing to rumor about, right? Not that I believe it. It's a shame people gotta spread lies around like that. But, I mean," he rambled, not knowing what else he could say at Dean's lack of response, "I can see why it picked up wind like it did, you two bein' out there all alone, no wives for either of ya. Seems kinda unnatural, ya know? 'Cause you've never had a wife and all and Castiel hasn't been lookin' for a new one-"

Dean held up his hand, stopping Gabriel's words to let them hang, unspoken, in the warm air between them. "Stop," he ground out, anger consuming every other emotion for the moment. "How  _dare_  ya try and justify their rumors," he said flatly. Gabriel floundered for an answer, shaking his head. "Dean, I didn't mean it like tha-" "No." Dean interrupted, voice low and quiet in anger. "I don't give a damn how ya meant it. You and everyone else in this damn town don't know anythin' about what's goin' on at my farm. Castiel not lookin' for a wife? How. Dare. Ya," he continued, voice nearly a whisper as his now cold green eyes trained on Gabriel.

"His wife  _drowned_  in front of him a year ago and y'all expect him to go chasin' after another one so soon just 'cause it's what's  _normal_? And ever stop to think about my situation? You know what happened, Gabe, Sammy  _died_. I sunk all my  savin's in that boy-" he paused, trying to control the tremble in his voice, "and afterwards nearly lost my farm. I was poor as all hell and could barely afford to feed myself, let alone keep the farm runnin'. Castiel came 'round and gave me help and now I'm back on my feet, but I've still got no savin's for a wife. So you can tell anyone in this god forsaken town who believes those rumors," he said, pausing to consider carefully his next words, "that they can fuck right on off," he ground out, not waiting for a response before he turned, untied the reigns, climbed up into his wagon and headed out of town.

"Dean!" Gabriel called after the quick-moving wagon, shocked at the curse he never imagined Dean would ever use. "Come on, we can fix this!" Dean simply ignored Gabriel's words and urged Dan and Charlie on quicker, angry tears blurring his vision.

All throughout the ride back to the farm, he was fuming, not bothering to reprimand himself for the curse he had uttered at the end of his small speech. However, when he began to pull up to the barn, the anger suddenly melted to give way to panic and sadness, the two emotions combining to cause chaos within his mind. Putting on a neutral expression to get his work done, Dean got down from the wagon and unhitched the horses, putting them away numbly along with the wagon and seed bags. Soon, he was on his way back to the cabin, hand shaky as he opened the door, entered, and placed his hat on the peg.

Castiel smiled at the sound of Dean entering the cabin and dried his hands on a rag, finally done with the laundry. Happy to share with the farmer the news the hens were now settled and laying more eggs, he entered the cabin from the back door, halting when he caught sight of Dean. There he stood, a blank, horrifying expression on his pale face as he stared at the table absently.

"Dean, my god, what happened?" Castiel said, panic rising in him as he rushed over to the other man, putting a hand on his arm. Dean looked to Castiel carefully, about to answer when he felt his comforting, strong hand on his arm. And suddenly, that was it, was all he could handle. Almost as if he was watching himself from an outside perspective, Dean suddenly broke down, tears filling his eyes to accompany the sinking of his heart. "Cas, it's all my fault," he managed out.

Castiel, taken aback and utterly worried by Dean's sudden outburst, guided the man to a chair at the kitchen table, sitting him down. "Dean, breathe, alright? C'mon, deep breaths, you can explain in a minute," he murmured, pulling up a chair to sit right beside the farmer, holding his hand gently. Dean did as he was instructed, each pull of oxygen clearing his panicked brain. "I'm so sorry," he said, looking to Castiel's worried blue eyes.

Castiel shook his head, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "Dean, sorry for what?" Dean took another shaky breath, closing his damp eyes to collect himself before speaking. "People in town, they know." Castiel's stomach, too, dropped at the words, somehow already knowing what exactly Dean meant. "How?" He asked calmly despite feeling as dizzy, if he was about to pass out. "Someone saw, the other day, when I held your hand. Rumor spread." Dean deadpanned, simply trying to get all the information out. "Most of the shops are refusin' now to serve you or me, they said most supplies I'll have to private order at the postal office, and hell if I've got money for that."

Castiel wanted, in that very moment, to stop everything, if just to have a minute to process everything. But, knowing this was impossible, took a deep breath to calm himself and licked nervously at his lips. "But they're just rumors, right?" He said, fingers now trembling as they curled around Dean's. "They can't do anythin' to us, they can't come arrest us?"

Dean shook his head, closing his eyes again against more tears at the fact they were fearing for their very lives simply for loving each other. "Yeah, they're just rumors. They won't come for us without hard evidence." He replied, opening his eyes to look at Castiel. "Then it's fine." Castiel began, trying to rationalize the situation to prevent himself from panicking as well. "It's all fine, we can still function. It might be a little difficult, but it's-"

"Function? What kinda life is that?" Dean said desperately, no anger towards Castiel in his words, only an incomprehensible sadness. "I don't wanna just function, I wanna live," he continued, moving his hand to cup Castiel's cheek as a sudden idea, one borne of desperation and sorrow, came into his mind. "Why don't we just move? We can go a couple'a towns over, find somewhere new to start a farm, we can just go, please let's just go," he begged, words picking up speed as the burden now on his shoulders became too suddenly heavy to bear. "Why do they even care, anyway, we don't affect them, they shouldn't care," he rambled, surging forward to capture Castiel's lips in a desperate kiss. "Let's just go," he murmured between their lips, deepening the kiss quickly as tears began to once again trek down his cheeks in the realization what he was saying was impossible and unrealistic.

Castiel, surprised by Dean's actions and sadly seeing the reason why the farmer was reacting so strongly, gently took his hand and wrapped it around the other's, pulling it away from his cheek to gently guide Dean away from kissing him. "Dean," he said softly, pulling the farmer in without hesitation as he began to weep. "We can figure this out."

Dean could do nothing in response but let his face burn in shame at the sudden break down he was having and at Castiel pulling him in, nearly buried his face in his chest. "I'm sorry," he whispered after a long while, feeling foolish and utterly broken. "This is all my fault, if I hadn't have grabbed your hand, we could still be fine."

Castiel shook his head, not only telling Dean it wasn't his fault, but truly believing it in his heart. "Don't blame yourself," he murmured, letting his hand stroke away the wet tear streaks along Dean's cheeks. "This isn't your fault, or my fault, or our fault, it's their fault for thinkin' what we have is a bad thing," he said gently, trying to keep his own sadness at bay in order to comfort the other man. "Besides, no matter what happens," he continued, pressing a kiss to Dean's hat-matted hair, "we've always got each other."

Dean nodded at Castiel's words, knowing they were true. Sitting up, he wiped at his face and took a deep breath, looking up to the other man. "I know," he replied, forcing a smile. "Dean," Castiel said softly, reaching over to take the farmer's hand once more, "we'll get through this, alright? I love ya, and we'll get through this," he repeated, trying to convince both himself and the farmer of the fact.

The two men went to sleep early that night, opting for a light supper before they curled up together in Dean's bed, neither wanting to go to separate beds although Castiel's room was now fixed and ready to live in once more. It had been a difficult afternoon to deal with for both, although Dean had caught the brunt of the situation as he was the one who had to face it head on in town. But, despite the farmer's break down, despite the fear that still swirled in Castiel's stomach as he kissed Dean's cheek goodnight after the other man was asleep, everything was still somehow okay. For although most everyone in town considered them depraved criminals, although their lives had suddenly grown far more difficult in the way of getting supplies and simply facing the community around them, they still had each other. After all, wasn't that all that mattered?


	30. Closer

"Castiel Novak, I hereby do charge you with multiple accounts of offense against the state, including unlawful acts with another man and public indecency with said man." A voice announced, the words sounding almost far away, drifting, coming from an unknown man. Panic gripping at Dean's heart, somehow causing it to both race and stutter to a stop, he lifted his green eyes to find the source of the horrifying statement.

Nothing could have prepared him for what he saw. There Castiel stood on a large platform, jaw set and chin held high, blue eyes staring straight ahead in a determination Dean instantly recognized: the determination to not cry. For half a second, the farmer was confused as to why Castiel looked like he was trying to be strong, emotionless, until his eyes took in the rest of the scene around the man he loved. Next to Castiel stood two solemn looking men, one Dean recognized as the sheriff and the other the town's judge, who was holding a noose.

Suddenly ripped from his confusion into action, Dean tried to run forward, but found his feet wouldn't move, and when he tried to scream, tried to halt the proceedings, his voice died out at a hoarse whisper. Hand coming up to grip at his hair in frustration and panic, he watched helplessly as the scene before him unfolded further.

"Due to your conduct with one Dean Winchester," the judge announced, "you are to be hung by your neck until you are dead," he continued, placing and tightening the loop of rope around Castiel's slim neck. "Do you have anything to say in your defense?" It was at this moment Castiel chose to look at Dean. Blue eyes met green for the final time, and in this realization, Castiel seemed to choose his words carefully. "I love y-"

Dean watched in utter terror as the dirty rope was fastened about Castiel's neck, and found himself gazing into the other man's eyes from across the space that separated them. Feeling tears begin to fill his eyes as Castiel began to say the phrase he'd heard so many times before, Dean felt grief-dampened comfort wrap its way around his heart, for even at his final hour Castiel chose to tell him he loved him. However, the comfort the simple word, love, had brought him was suddenly destroyed, as Castiel was cut off. Just as he began to finish the simple phrase, the sheriff reached over and pulled the lever, dropping the door beneath his feet.

Then, instead of 'you' slipping from Castiel's lips, a strangled gasp replaced it, his eyes widening in pain and sudden lack of oxygen. "Cas!" Dean tried to shout through his tears, his voice still a strangled whisper while he watched, helplessly, as Castiel's boots swung just above the dusty ground, almost as if the dry earth was taunting him with the option of life, could he only touch his toes upon it. Unable to turn away from the sight, Dean let his eyes travel up the flailing yet limp form of Castiel, finally reaching his eyes, which were framed by his now almost purple skin, tears filling them from the exertion as his desperate fingers clawed at the rope around his neck.

"Cas..." Dean repeated, now finding he could do nothing but whisper through the tears filling his eyes, eyes that were locked with Castiel's. Then, after what felt like hours, but was only two long minutes of watching the man he loved struggle for life that wouldn't come, Castiel's hands dropped to his sides, his eyes softening for half a second as they seemed to bore straight into his soul. Following the haunting stare closely, as if in slow motion, Castiel's eyes fell shut, his head slumped forward, death being his only release from the painful oxygen deprivation.

After that, Dean couldn't decide what was more horrifying: the fact Castiel held his gaze until he couldn't any longer, or the fact that right before he'd died, acceptance flooded his blue eyes. But, Dean thought as he collapsed to the dusty ground, sobs ripping demanding breath from his chest, it didn't matter which one was worse, because Castiel was gone. Gone because of what he'd done, because of how he'd tempted Castiel into his life. It was all his fault, as none of it would've happened if he'd only controlled himself in town that one fateful day, with that one fleeting grab of the other man's hand. Now, he thought, tears running down his cheeks, he would never feel that hand wrapped around his again.

He would never forgive himself.  
  


* * *

  
Castiel opened his eyes to reveal a still dark room, unsure for a moment what had woken him. Unsure, that is, until he noticed muffled, almost strangled crying coming from beside him. Worry clenching around his stomach, he sat up and turned to Dean, who he found still asleep, tears slipping from under his closed lids.

"Dean," Castiel whispered, placing his hand gently upon the farmer's torso. "Dean, shh, c'mon, wake up." And just like that, Dean was wrenched from the horrible nightmare, the dusty ground under him suddenly replaced with crisp cotton sheets. Gasping, he sat up, heart racing, and looked around. He was in his room, in his bed and, he realized, Castiel was beside him, concern flooding his blue eyes.

"Dean?" Castiel asked hesitantly, placing his hand on Dean's. Dean, at the voice he was so sure he'd never hear again, looked to Castiel in terrible wonder, his breathing slowly coming to a normal level. "Cas," he murmured, slipping his shaking hand out from under Castiel's to place it on his neck. "You- You're alive," he said, thumb gently rubbing along the other's bruise-free neck. Then, it was all he could take, the dream too overwhelming for him to do anything but break down, mirroring his state not two days earlier when he'd arrived home from town.

Castiel, thoroughly worried and disturbed by Dean's words, simply pulled the other man into him, rocking them gently together to try to provide a sense of calm in the emotional turmoil gripping the farmer. "Dean, whatever it was, it's alright now. You're safe, I'm safe," he whispered, allowing Dean space to sit up.

Dean took the opportunity Castiel gave him and sat up, hand shaking to match exactly how he felt. "It was so real," he mumbled, confused at how a simple dream could have provoked in him such a reaction. "You were hangin' there, Cas, 'cause of what I did, cause of how I messed up. They said you had to die 'cause you loved me, you never even got to finish tellin' me you loved me before they pulled on that damn lever."

Castiel, at first, was confused as Dean began talking about his dream, every other word seeming to break under the stress of simply recounting the events. However, as the farmer began to delve further what had happened, Castiel suddenly understood, a wave of sickness washing over him. Not only was Dean obviously still worrying about the town's reaction, he was worried something would go drastically wrong with them, that someone would come arrest and execute them.

Castiel thought they'd worked through at least some of the initial fear, thought they'd quelled the problem when it had happened. But now, it was obvious how wrong he was, and although it felt selfish to find his own problem stemming from Dean's dream, he couldn't help but feel guilty. Guilty, that he hadn't noticed in the past few days that Dean was suffering. With this thought, Castiel brushed his thumb across the farmer's tear damp cheek, keeping his voice low. "Why didn't ya let me know ya were still worried?" Dean shook his head, licking his dry lips before responding, "I didn't wanna trouble you more with it. I figured I was just bein' a bit over dramatic was all." A dry chuckle then came from his chest as he looked to his lap in embarrassment. "But look what I'm doin' right now. I feel kinda stupid reactin' so big like this."

Castiel, at Dean's detrimental words towards himself, instantly shook his head, lifting the other man's chin gently to look at him. "The way I figure it, you've never been in this situation before. It's all new.  _I'm_  new. It's not over dramatic to react like this, 'cause it's damn tough to live with this kinda pressure just to love me."

Dean wiped roughly at his eyes, taking a slow, deep breath. "I'll do anythin' to love ya," he said, sniffing at his now slightly stuffy nose. "Anythin'. You're important to me and I need ya to know I would suffer through a thousand of those dreams just to wake up and know you're safe. You were right, ya know," he murmured, reaching over to grip Castiel's hand in his, "no matter what happens, we've always got each other.".

Castiel, without another word, leaned forward and met Dean's lips in a soft kiss, closing his eyes against tears that welled in them at the sheer meaning the contact conveyed between them. "Dean," he said, kissing the farmer again, "I love ya and nothin', not even death, is ever gonna change that, alright?"

Dean nodded, suppressing a choked sob in lieu of kissing Castiel once more, all his emotion poured into the sweet gesture. "Alright," he answered when their lips parted for a moment. However, they weren't apart for much longer, as a sudden, soft spark seemed to light the air between them, all the repressed worry and sadness of the past days coming into the kiss, translating into comfort.

Lifting his hand, Dean caressed Castiel's bare chest, the touch nothing but loving and affirming in his mind. However, his body seemed to have different ideas, as he felt the stirrings of arousal beneath his drawers. Feeling poorly for reacting in such a way to what was meant to be a comforting kiss, Dean pulled back, his face coloring red as he saw the sheet over his lap bulging slightly.

"I'm sorry," he apologized softly, letting his hand drop from Castiel's soft skin. "I don't mean to make this somethin' it's not." Castiel looked down at where Dean's shame filled gaze was focused, suddenly understanding when he caught sight of the slight bulge under the sheet. "It's alright," he reassured, hesitantly placing a hand on Dean's knee. "Sometimes different things can be helpful and comfortin'. If this is what ya think'll help, we can try it out."

Dean, surprised but no less pleased at Castiel's reassuring words, hesitated for but a moment before nodding. "I think I'd like to try," he admitted. "I just wanna be as close to you as possible."

Castiel nodded, giving his partner a reassuring smile. "I want that, too," he said, gently slipping the sheet back from both their bodies. Moving his hand slowly up the length of Dean's thigh, he let his fingers just brushing the edge of the farmer's drawers when he paused with a sudden thought. "Dean," he began, licking his lips nervously, "remember last time?"

Dean looked to Castiel, his chest now rising and falling quickly at the slow tease he knew the other man didn't realize he was providing. "Yeah, I do." "Would ya like to explore what we discovered last time?" Castiel asked, earning him a soft nod from Dean. At first, it seemed hesitant but at the look in the farmer's eyes, Castiel knew it was anything but. "We'll go nice and slow. Just tell me if ya wanna stop," he murmured, letting his fingers trail up and under Dean's drawers to brush at his hard, humid cock.

Dean gasped at the sudden sensation, and reached over simultaneously to grip Castiel's erection gently through his drawers. "You're so beautiful," he found himself murmuring gently, swallowing a moan as Castiel's thumb slid over the head of his cock. Castiel felt, at Dean's compliment, a sharp, almost instantaneous well of love, one that vaguely felt like lust but was something deeper, more meaningful than the simple carnal pleasure of sexual acts. Suddenly overcome by the feeling, he kissed Dean deeply and pressed his free hand against the farmer's chest. "Here," he murmured, "lie on down, lemme take care of ya."

Dean did as he was told, and watched as his drawers were slowly slipped off. "Don't ya want me to tend to ya?" Castiel shook his head, offering the farmer a soft smile. "I'll be fine. I like just watchin' you in pleasure," he responded, stroking his hand gently along Dean's balls, a tease at what was to come.

Dean, almost as if on instinct, spread his legs to make way for Castiel, folding his knees up to rest at his chest, a hot blush rising up him. "Will this make it a little easier?" He asked softly, hoping he hadn't gone too far in the quick exposure of his body. Castiel was far too enraptured by the sight Dean had offered him to answer instantly. How could he, when before him, spread for him, was a sight he never thought he'd see? The soft, almost pink flesh of the farmer's most private area lay before him to behold, to touch, to  _explore_ and in this realization Castiel was blindsided.

"It's alright," he replied eventually, voice hoarse as he grew harder than he ever had been before, reaching his finger up to brush along the soft ridges of Dean's entrance. Watching as the muscle twitched and contracted under the unfamiliar feeling of his finger, Castiel gently stroked along it, feeling Dean slowly relax. "You're beautiful, too," he whispered reverently in reference to Dean's earlier compliment.

Dean, already far gone once more at the feeling of Castiel exploring one of his most sensitive areas, smiled softly, finally feeling all the fear of the dream fade away. Taking a deep breath, he relaxed himself further, noticing as a drop of his own precome fell onto his stomach. "Ya can go further, if ya want," he said breathily, his breath hitching in surprise at his own frank words.

Castiel pressed lightly against Dean's entrance at his words, going slowly as to confirm the request. "Like this?" Dean nodded, stopping himself from pressing back into the amazing sensation. Then, suddenly, he felt Castiel's finger press further, the digit pushed just barely into him, the feeling suddenly turning uncomfortable. "Wait."

Castiel instantly stopped, holding his hand in place to await Dean's command. This was, after all, guided by his comfort. "Is it too much? We can stop and try again later." Dean shook his head, licking his dry lips as he felt his erection lose a small amount of stiffness. "No, I just-" he said, thinking for a moment, "I think we need somethin' to ease the way, somethin' slick.".

At Dean's suggestion, Castiel paused and gently, slowly, eased his finger out, thinking. "I can get some of the vegetable oil I use for cookin'," he offered, feeling slightly silly at the suggestion. But, at the other man's affirmative nod, he then felt eager now to explore the new option and stood from the bed, lighting a lantern. "I'll be right back."

Dean smiled at Castiel and dropped his knees down, stretching his stiff joints while his partner was gone. But, soon, the other man was back, a bowl in hand, one the farmer could only assume was filled with oil. "I hope this'll do." Castiel said with a slightly sheepish smile, setting the bowl and lantern on the bedside table before sitting cross-legged in front of Dean once more. Slicking up his finger, Castiel rubbed around Dean's entrance again and slowly eased his finger in. He thought it had felt better, and was about to ask Dean what he thought when the farmer let out a soft moan.

"Cas, that's amazin'." Dean breathed, bearing down ever so slightly on Castiel's firm digit. Castiel, in response, gently eased his finger in further, the feeling of velvet heat enveloping him as Dean writhed beneath him almost proving to be too much as he used his free hand to rub at himself through his drawers.

"Never thought this would feel so good," Castiel murmured, sliding his finger in all the way and crooking it curiously.

Dean, in response to the sudden jolt of pleasure that ran through him, one that was almost too much and at the same time almost caused him to reach orgasm right then, gasped and writhed on the bed, eyes wide. "God, Cas, what was that?" He panted.

Castiel watched in rapt pleasure at Dean's gorgeous reaction and shook his head, curling his finger around experimentally. "I've got no idea," he responded thoughtfully, teasing a second finger beside his first, almost questioningly.

Dean, at the silent whisper of a second finger against his slowly stretching rim, looked down where Castiel was exploring him, his other hand palming at his covered cock. Clearing his throat, the farmer licked his lips, hesitating on an idea he was sure was absolutely insane. "Cas...?" He asked, nervous with trepidation until Castiel paused and looked up at him. "Do ya think you'd wanna try havin' sex?" He asked, feeling blood rush to color his cheeks. "I mean, it's not the conventional way, but I figure if we sorta, ya know," he continued, clearing his throat, "stretch me enough, it should be enough to, uh, fit ya."

Castiel's felt a wave of heat rush through him at Dean's hesitant, uncertain question, his mind screaming 'yes' before the farmer had even finished the question. "Ya said you wanted to be closer," he replied simply, meeting Dean's eyes in a show of complete trust and openness. "I'd like that, too. I think this could be the way for us to be as close as possible."

Dean took a slow breath and nodded, licking his dry lips. "I just wanna show you how much I love ya.". Castiel's eyes softened at this, which prompted him to lean forward, still keeping his fingers carefully in place as he pressed a kiss to Dean's lips. "Ya always do, every day. This is just another way of showin' it," he murmured, gently letting his second finger slip in beside his first as if to punctuate his words.

Dean gasped softly at the slightly painful burn that accompanied the reaction, but found after a few moments of adjustment only pleasure remained. Relaxing himself slowly, he let his hand grip at the sheet beside him and looked down to watch as Castiel prepared him. It didn't take long for a third finger to be added, and with more oil to slick the way, Dean was soon letting out small, keening moans, the feeling still almost too much as Castiel gently moved his fingers in a slow scissoring motion inside of him.

"Cas," he said, meeting the other man's eyes, "I'm ready. I need ya," he panted, uncaring at this point how wanton he sounded. To Castiel, though, he sounded anything but. Instead of sounding desperate, Dean sounded loving, trusting, something that Castiel knew didn't come easily to the farmer. Gently slipping off his drawers, Castiel eased his fingers out, ever so careful to keep from hurting Dean. Then, he scooped up a bit of the oil and slicked his erection up, letting out a soft groan as he did so. "Here," he said once he'd finished the quick task, taking his pillow to place it under Dean's tailbone, "this way you can put your legs down."

Dean obediently sunk down onto the elevation he was provided and gave Castiel a shaky smile as he stretched his legs out from where they were folded against his chest, his nerves jittery at the new action he somehow knew would bond them completely. "I'm ready. Just go slow."

Castiel nodded and added a bit more oil to Dean's slightly swollen entrance, hovering above him an instant later. "Just tell me if we need to slow down or stop," he said, voice nearly a whisper as he pushed the blunt head of his cock at the farmer's loosened hole.

Dean nodded and relaxed his muscles as much as he could, feeling, after a few seconds, Castiel's head slip past his outer rim. Groaning softly at the now barely painful sensation, he gave the other man a look of reassurance and allowed him to sink further in. It took a good two minutes of careful maneuvering, as Castiel didn't want to hurt him, but soon Castiel's pelvis was flush against Dean's backside, both men panting softly with the new sensation.

"God, Dean..." Castiel murmured, feeling tears sting at the back of his eyes at the sudden realization they were as close as they could ever be. "You're so amazin', do ya know that?" Dean could do nothing at the moment but nod, looking up to Castiel with a smile. "C'mre," he managed, pulling the other man down flush to him. "It's alright, ya can move."

Castiel reached the hand that wasn't slick with oil up to Dean's hair, stroking softly at the short, damp locks, eyes locked with the farmer's as he began to shallowly, slowly thrust in and out of him. Soon, as they both grew more comfortable with the movement, he was moving at a slow, steady pace, cock sheathing in and out of Dean in a delicious, almost too-tight slide.

Suddenly, Castiel realized as his lips met Dean's, his oil-slick free hand slipping between them to gently stroke the farmer's cock, they weren't simply having sex; they were making love. In the sweaty, slow rhythm of their bodies slotting together, everything was melting away. All of their combined fear of people finding out, of the nightmare, of the injury, of the pain that had so long lingered between them from their pasts, disappeared as they connected intimately with each other.

"Cas," Dean said, panting softly as the other man's thumb slid over the head of his cock, "I love ya. I do, I love ya. Everythin' about ya, I love ya," he repeated, feeling somehow unable to stop telling the other man as tears gathered in his eyes at all the pent-up emotions being released in such an intense manner. "Dean," Castiel gasped in response, kissing away a single tear that slipped down the side of the farmer's face, "I love ya, too. I always have, I always will," he whispered reverently, kissing the other man deeply right as his own orgasm overwhelmed him.

Dean, at the barely detectable feeling of Castiel pulsing within him in orgasm, kissed back eagerly, only needing two more strokes of the other man's hand before he, too, was coming, thick ropes of release painting both their stomachs.

Castiel, after taking a few moment to catch his breath, gently slid out of Dean and reached over to grab at a wash cloth, cleaning them both up quickly and gently before collapsing beside the farmer. Dean instantly slid over to press himself to Castiel's side, taking a deep breath of the warm, heady scented air around him.

"Do ya feel alright?" Castiel asked, stroking away damp streaks upon Dean's cheeks. Dean nodded, looking into Castiel's eyes deeply to convey how much the action had meant to him. "I feel good," he answered. "I do love ya," he murmured, following up on the words he had gasped out in ecstasy, "no matter if we're out workin' in the fields or makin' love in here, I'll never stop lovin' ya."

Castiel smiled softly, blinking away tears that stemmed from both Dean's words and his own oversensitivity from the highly emotional night. "I love ya, too. Always have, always will."

Never before had truer words been spoken. For, not only that night had the two brought all their feelings of worry and fear to a head, they had connected on a deeper level, a level neither thought existed. So, falling asleep in Castiel's arms, the musky scent of sex and sweat around him, Dean felt nothing but grateful comfort. He had Castiel here with him, alive, and would let nothing ruin it. In fact, nothing  _would_  ruin it, he thought dazedly as he slipped into a peaceful, dreamless sleep.


	31. Visit

"So, you wanna go today, right?" Dean asked after swallowing his mouthful of biscuits and gravy, earning a nod from Castiel. "Yeah," he answered, a forkful of food raised halfway to his lips, "I think I'm ready."

The subject had come up a day after their healing night together, right before supper. Dean had come in early from the fields to find Castiel wiping his eyes, Kate's picture laying before him on the kitchen table. After a small amount of coaxing, Dean had been able to discover the reason for the other man's tears.

* * *

" _I've just been thinkin' about goin' to visit her." Castiel said, collecting himself in order to better explain himself. "With how close we are now, I wouldn't feel right if I didn't go and talk to her, sorta give some explanation," he continued, voice catching in his throat, "besides, it's about time I go, seein' as it's been a year."_

_Dean nodded in understanding, reaching over to gently wrap his fingers around Castiel's. "You can go tomorrow, if ya would like," he replied. "Take as much time as ya need."_

_Castiel squeezed Dean's hand, meeting his eyes. "I was wonderin' if ya would go with me," he ventured, licking at his chapped lips, "I think it'll be easier that way, seein' her." "Of course." Dean instantly agreed, releasing Castiel's hand in order to wipe at the other man's damp cheeks. "Of course I will."_

* * *

And so, just like that, the plans were set. No hesitation, no miscommunication, just an understanding for the struggles of one another. It was, in that very sense, why they worked so well together.

With this comforting thought, Dean stood, giving Castiel a soft kiss on the cheek. "I'll go saddle up the horses. If ya need a little quiet time, just leave the dishes, they'll keep 'till later." Castiel was about to shake his head, but instead gave Dean a smile. "Thank ya," he answered, standing as well to clear their dishes. "I'll meet ya out front in about half an hour." Dean said, figuring it was enough time to give Castiel some quiet.

Castiel gave Dean a grateful nod and turned, hearing the door click shut as he began the dishes. There was no point in leaving them until later, he decided. However, as he looked down into the soapy water, memories began flooding his mind, crowding out any other thoughts he had.

Concluding then Dean may have been right about having a bit of quiet time, Castiel dried his hands and sat at the table, his chest feeling heavier than it had before. He thought about many things, sitting alone at the worn kitchen table he had grown to love. He thought about the past year, about farming and cooking, about Kate, about Dean. It was true, when he first saw Dean, he hadn't thought much of him, but over the past months the farmer had showed him so much, had helped him through his grief.

After a few more minutes of contemplative silence, Castiel rubbed a hand over his face, collecting himself to a calm state as he stood and grabbed his hat. Heading out the front door a moment later, he checked his pocket for Kate's picture, and feeling it safely in place, mounted the horse next to Dean.

"Ready?" He asked, watching as Dean, too, got into the saddle. "Yeah. Let's take the route outside town to get there." Dean replied, earning an understanding nod from Castiel.

The ride wasn't hurried, as there was no reason it had to be. Occasionally, Dean would comment on an animal or a tree they passed, simply trying to keep good spirits despite where they were going. Castiel would smile, taking in the information with interest, happy to keep his mind from dwelling on the bittersweet visit he was about to make. But, with the outskirts of town only being an hour away, the ride remained short, and soon they were approaching the spot Castiel hadn't wanted to think about in the past year.

Yet, there it lay, lonely looking under the sole, leafy oak tree that shaded it: Kate's final resting place. Since it had only been a year, a faint outline of the dimensions of the hole dug for her were still visible, providing a haunting, vivid memory of the day she was buried to both Castiel and Dean.

Dismounting his horse, throat already constricted at the sight, Castiel retrieved Kate's picture from his pocket and stroked at the papery back for comfort as he slowly approached the grave, Dean by his side.

"Hey Kate," he said, a hollow smile coming to his lips as he felt a rush of sadness travel from deep in his chest up to the top of his head. "I, uh, I'm sorry I haven't come out here yet to visit ya, it's been a pretty crazy year, lot's been goin' on at the farm and-" he paused suddenly, clearing his throat as tears already began to sting at the back of his eyes with his rambled words, "and I just miss ya. I really do," he choked out, every other word breaking as he looked down to her grave with tear-blurry vision. "It hasn't been easy without ya and most every day I wish ya could be here, 'cause it's been so great, just such a great year. I thought I should tell ya, I met someone."

Sniffing, Castiel reached over to grab Dean's hand for support, finding comfort in the tiny squeeze the farmer gave him. "He's a great person, he really is. I know you would've loved him if you met him, you two would've hit it off so well. And I'm gonna visit ya more often, alright? I'll be down here when I can," he finished with another smile, this one less hollow than the last.

Releasing Dean's hand, Castiel then stepped forward and let his fingers brush reverently against the crude wooden marker sticking from the ground. "I love ya," he whispered brokenly. Dean watched Castiel stand in silence for a few minutes, one hand resting on the marker, the other held trembling at his eyes as he cried softly.

"Alright." Castiel said eventually, a tremor in his voice as he rubbed the last tears from his eyes. "I'm ready." Silently, Dean stepped forward, glad they were far enough away from town no one would be watching them and placed his hand gently on Castiel's back. "C'mon," he murmured, "let's go home."

The ride back to the farm was quiet and solemn, the only sound coming between the two being the occasional call of a bird. Once they'd arrived back, Dean put the horses back in their stalls, Castiel hovering close by in a subconscious desire to not be alone.

"That's that, then." Dean said, placing the last bridle on the hook. He was about to turn and head back towards the house when Castiel suddenly hugged him, clinging to him as if he was the answer to life itself. "I love ya too. Ya know that, right?" Castiel whispered, nearly mirroring his own words from weeks previous when he had lost Kate's picture. Dean smiled, kissing Castiel's temple gently. "Of course I do," he murmured back, pulling away from the hug to instead fold the other man's hand in his. "C'mon," he added on a sudden impulse, "let's go for a walk."

Castiel, slightly confused by Dean's out of the blue suggestion, but still willing to follow the farmer, nodded, letting himself meander along the path away from the barn, Dean's hand clasped in his. Dean rubbed his thumb along the slightly dry back of Castiel's strong hand as they walked, allowing their feet to lead them anywhere on the beautiful farm.

It was a bright spring day, the type of day the farmer loved. The air was just slightly too hot, but when a breeze swept by, it was perfect. Blooming flower buds decorated the prairie and trees and provided the air a sweet, drifting scent, one that was never overbearing but always refreshing. After all Castiel had been through that day, he needed fresh air such as this, needed to let himself relax.

Visiting Kate's grave had probably been good for Castiel, Dean concluded. He had previously wondered if Castiel would ever want to go to the site, especially after they had grown to love one another. However, the other man had always struck him as fully honest and kind, and in this Dean found he wasn't at all surprised by Castiel's sudden want to be honest with the memory of Kate. It was all part of the acceptance process, and Dean was glad for the opportunity his partner had had to find closure at her grave. It was something he never had, and would never have with Sammy, and he never wished to watch Castiel go through the difficulties he'd faced from this fact.

Refocusing back into the world from his thoughts, Dean looked where they had arrived, surprised to see they were halted in front of the steep bank leading down to the river, trees shading them from above. "Ya wanted to make sure I knew ya loved me, too?" The farmer asked softly after a few moments of silence, turning to face Castiel fully. "Yeah." Castiel replied simply, slightly puzzled by Dean's sudden conversation choice.

Dean hesitated on his answer, trying to think of exactly how to word everything as he let his thumb stroke along the soft skin at Castiel's wrist. "When ya lost Kate's picture a while back," he began, watching the other man's reactions to his elaboration carefully, "I came to a realization of sorts. I told ya your reaction didn't mean ya didn't love me, and I meant it. I figured out that ya can always love Kate and ya can always love me. They're just different kinds of love and that's okay. Just make sure ya know I've never doubted your love for me, and I never will."

At Dean's words, Castiel found himself smiling, redemption and relief present then in every breath he took. Dean knew, it was clear, that he still loved him while never losing his love for Kate. He knew it was a different kind of love, and in knowing that Dean acknowledged this, Castiel felt a weight lifted from his already weary shoulders. "Thank ya," he finally answered, his tone grateful and endearing. "You're welcome." Dean responded, pulling Castiel into another close embrace. "Anythin' for you," he whispered after a long while, nuzzling into the crook of the other man's neck.

Dean was a good man through and through, and only proved this fact further by the words he spoke to Castiel that day. The two men would go on for years together, working the farm and simply living life happily together. Dan and Charlie would remain as ornery as ever, Sunshine would calve the following spring, and Henry would live out his retirement years comfortably in the shade of a new apple tree Castiel planted.

The rumors in town would never fully die out, and although, as with every piece of gossip, they would lessen in intensity, they would never stop hurting both men. Dean would still have to purchase most of his supplies privately, and never would regain the same closeness with Gabriel he had had before, but somehow none of it mattered much, as he would always be able to return home to Castiel.

But, in that present moment on the river bank, the place where so much of their lives had developed, Dean and Castiel found themselves where they always belonged: down by the water, wrapped in the constancy of each other's love.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally finished! Wow, what a wild ride this story has been. It's been such a pleasure to share this with you guys, and I would like to thank every single one of you who left reviews, they were what always kept me going. All of your support, whether you simply read, or read and reviewed, has just been such an unexpected happiness in my life, and I'd just like to properly thank you all for everything you've done for me, how happy you've made me, simply by reading. If any of you ever would like to talk about anything, all of my contact info is on my profile page. Don't be afraid to shoot me a message, I'm open to anyone who wishes to talk! :) 
> 
> Again, HUGE thank you to tumblr user ohbbey for editing this entire story. She's been such a huge help, go check out her blog and send an ask thanking her for all her hard work! 
> 
> As always, have a wonderful night/day, I love you all so much. I'm truly saying that from my heart, it's been such a great opportunity to share my work with all of you. Alright, I'll stop blathering on now. uwu (Also, If you'd like to check out my tumblr, I'm at cas-wings.tumblr.com :) )


	32. Bonus: Castiel's Recipes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's a little bonus to this fic, all of the recipes from DbtW that you can recreate at home! All have been tried and tested by me, they're all delicious. Those boys were really living the high life with Castiel's wonderful cooking. :)

* * *

**CASTIEL'S (SUCCESSFUL) PANCAKES**

1 cup flour

1 tablespoon sugar

3 teaspoons baking powder

1/2 teaspoon salt

1 egg

3/4 cup milk

2 tablespoons oil

DIRECTIONS:

In a large measuring cup, whisk together dry ingredients. Add wet ingredients and mix well. Heat griddle and melt a teaspoon of butter. Pour batter onto hot griddle. Cook until golden brown, about 3 minutes, flip and cook other side Note: batter makes 1 1/2 cups - use 1/4 cup for each pancake. Makes will make 6 large pancakes.  
  


* * *

**  
  
CASTIEL'S FRIED CHICKEN **

1 whole chicken, cut up

1 cup dry bread crumbs

2 tablespoons all-purpose flour

1 teaspoon salt

1 teaspoon ground black pepper

1 egg

1/4 cup vegetable oil

DIRECTIONS:

Crush up bread crumbs into a semi-fine powder, add seasonings. Beat the egg in a dish or bowl. Place the flour in a separate bowl. Dunk each piece of chicken in the egg, the flour, and then in the crumbs, ensuring each is well coated. Place a large skillet over medium high heat, place the oil in until hot, and fry each piece until the chicken is golden brown and the juices run clear.  
  


* * *

**  
  
CASTIEL'S APPLE PIE **

Filling:

6 cups thinly sliced, peeled apples (6 medium)

¾ cup sugar

2 tablespoons all-purpose flour

¾ teaspoon ground cinnamon

¼ teaspoon salt

1/8 teaspoon ground nutmeg

DIRECTIONS:

Stir together 1/2 cup sugar, the flour, cinnamon and nutmeg in large bowl. Add apples, toss, and let sit at room temperature for five to ten minutes while preparing the crust.

Crust:

2 cups all-purpose flour

1/4 teaspoon salt

2/3 cup Butter

4 to 5 tablespoons cold water

DIRECTIONS:

Combine flour and salt in large bowl; cut in butter with a fork until mixture resembles coarse crumbs. Stir in enough water with fork just until flour is moistened, form a ball. Divide dough in half; shape each half into a ball. Flatten slightly. Roll out  _1_ ball of dough on lightly floured surface into 12-inch circle. Place dough into 9-inch pie pan; cover the bottom and sides of the pie dish. Roll out remaining ball of dough on lightly floured surface into 12-inch circle. Place dough over filling. Trim, seal and crimp or flute edge. Cut 5 or 6 large slits in crust. Bake at 425°F for 30 to 40 minutes or until crust is brown and juice begins to bubble through slits in crust.  
  


* * *

**  
  
CASTIEL'S FRIED SALTED PORK WITH GRAVY AND FRESH GREEN BEANS **

_Pork:_

Salt pork, 1 pound

1/2 cup unbleached, all-purpose flour

1 1/2 cups milk

Salt and pepper to taste

1 tablespoon lard or oil

skillet, 12-inch ; container for drippings.

DIRECTIONS:

Slice the ham thinly and parboiled in boiling water to rid excess salt. After letting the slices rest for five minutes, roll each in a batter of flour seasoned with salt and pepper to taste. Heat some lard or oil in a skillet and fry each piece until crisp and golden brown.

_Gravy:_

2 tablespoons fat from the ham

1/2 cup coffee

1/4 cup water

2 tablespoons butter

DIRECTIONS:

Remove the ham from the pan and set aside on a plate and keep warm. To the pan, add the coffee and water and stir with a wooden spoon, scraping up any browned bits from the bottom of the pan. Add the butter, and stir until incorporated. Serve immediately over ham. Gravy will be thin.

_Green Beans:_

2 pounds fresh green beans, tips removed

4 tablespoons butter, melted

Salt to taste

DIRECTIONS:

Wash and drain the beans. Put 1 cup water in a medium saucepan. Add the beans and cook until tender but still very crisp, about 6 minutes. Drain the beans and add the butter, tossing to coat as it melts. Season with salt.  
  


* * *

**  
  
CASTIEL'S VEGETABLE SOUP **

1 bunch celery, chopped

1 medium head cabbage, chopped

1 zucchini, chopped

6 onions, chopped

8 tomatoes, chopped

8 carrots, chopped

Salt to taste

2 cloves garlic, minced

8 whole peppercorns

DIRECTIONS:

In a large pot, combine celery, cabbage, zucchini, onions and tomatoes. Pour in enough water to cover by one inch. Stir in salt, garlic, and peppercorns. Bring to a boil, then reduce heat and simmer 90 minutes to 2 hours, until vegetables are tender and flavors are well blended.  
  


* * *

**  
  
CASTIEL'S CORN BREAD **

1 egg, beaten

1 c. milk

2 tbsp. honey

2/3 c. cornmeal

3/4 c. flour

1 tbsp. baking powder

1 tsp. salt

3 tbsp. melted butter

DIRECTIONS:

Stir honey into milk until dissolved. Add to beaten egg. Mix the dry ingredients together. Add the liquid and melted butter. Stir briskly and pour into well-buttered 8 inch cast iron skillet or square pan. Bake in 425 degree oven for 20 minutes.  
  


* * *

**  
  
DEAN'S BIRTHDAY CAKE **

2-1/2 cups all-purpose flour

2 cups sugar

1 cup milk

3/4 cup vegetable oil

4 eggs

2-1/4 teaspoons baking powder

DIRECTIONS:

Preheat oven to 350° F. Line two 9-inch round cake pans or one 9x13-inch rectangular baking pan with parchment paper. Grease the paper and the sides of the pan well. In a large mixing bowl, with an electric mixer, beat sugar and eggs together until slightly thickened, about 1 minute. Add flour, milk, oil, and baking powder, and beat for another minute, just until the batter is smooth and creamy. Don't overbeat. Pour batter into the prepared baking pan(s). Bake in preheated oven for 30 to 40 minutes or until the tops are golden and a toothpick poked into the center of the layer comes out clean. (A single rectangular pan will take longer to bake than two round ones.) Loosen the sides of the cake from the pan with a thin knife, then turn out onto a rack and peel off the paper.


End file.
